Hunting the Hunters
by Sweetfire22
Summary: Hermione Granger, Auror, is working under the overprotective Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy, leader of a renegade group called The Hunters. Will they bring each other down? Dramione
1. Chapter 1

**Soooo this is my latest story and it'll be a long one! I have the first 100,000 words already finished and will be posting a chapter every day or so when I have time. Since they're just in a big long document on my computer, it takes time to go through, separate it into chapters, and double space everything. Anyway, enjoy! And don't forget to read and review :)**

**Also, I should clarify that I began writing this before the seventh book came out, so as the story progresses, you'll see how I decided to write Voldemort's demise.**

"Granger!" Gary said, using his best puppy-dog look. "Can you please file this paperwork on the latest criminals that the Hunters dropped off? I won't be able to do it tonight!"

Hermione Granger looked up from her desk in the Auror branch of the Ministry of Magic and sighed. "What will you be doing?" she asked, a bit exasperated. This was not the first time that this had happened.

"I'm going on a raid with Harry Potter," said Gary excitedly, his sandy hair ruffled. "We have to leave now, so I won't get the time to do the papers."

Gary Saunders was a year younger than Hermione, yet even he had done more fieldwork than Hermione had in the two years that she had been working under her best friend, who, quite simply, did not want Hermione in any danger. Paperwork seemed to be all that she was given to do.

"Sure, Gary," said Hermione finally. After all, it wasn't his fault that Harry was overprotective of her. Plus, it's not as if she had anything better to do that night. Gary's blue eyes it up and he hugged her tightly.

"Thank you so much!" Gary praised, leaving the room after handing her the file on the latest criminals that the Hunters had brought in. Hermione narrowed her eyes as she read the name under the "Apprehended By:" section. The Hunters.

The Hunters were a group of vigilantes that had surfaced after Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts, and after Lord Voldemort had been defeated. They went after former Death Eaters and criminals, attacking them and then leaving them at the Ministry, bound and gagged, with their wands in a bundle beside them. No one really knew how the name Hunters had come about. Whether that was what they called themselves or what people called them, the Hunters was now the group's name.

The Hunters were causing quite a conflict in the Ministry, because while they did bring in wizarding criminals, their methods were crude and thuggish, and oftentimes, the felons accused the Hunters of using the Cruciatus Curse on them, though there was never any proof. While there was not much public outcry about arresting them, the Ministry of Magic did have principles to uphold. The Aurors felt similarly. They resented the Hunters for thinking that they were higher than the law, and Hermione was no exception to that thought. She was twenty one years old and had been working as an Auror for two years. Her best friend, Harry Potter, had risen quickly through the ranks; due to several lucky coincidences and stellar grades on his practical performance, he was now the head of the Aurors.

The only problem with working under Harry, as Hermione had been for most of those two years, was that Harry was reluctant to send her on raids, or indeed, to let her do any kind of field work. She had come much too close to death in that final battle, and Harry was overprotective to the point of insanity. Hermione Granger had spent almost all of her time as an Auror filing paperwork, which was a blatant misuse of her intelligence and bravery. Still, it seemed she had no other recourse than to bug him about it once or twice a week. Perhaps today would be her lucky day.

Hermione muttered a charm and a silvery figure burst forth from the end of her wand, trotting out of her cubicle. Moments later, Harry Potter walked in.

"Hey, Hermione," he greeted her. "Need something?"

"What do I have to do to get you to let me go out on one of the raids?" she asked him bluntly. "I didn't become an Auror to just sit back and write out papers all the time!"

Harry sighed, having had this conversation before. "Hermione, I just don't want to lose you. Have you forgotten how you almost died when Ron did?"

"I'm not a little child," said Hermione fiercely. "It's not your job to protect me!"

"Fine," Harry said suddenly. "You want an assignment? I'm giving you this one: bring me the leader of the Hunters—you're familiar with that group, I'm sure—and you can go on the next raid that pops up."

Hermione's face lit up. "Great!" she exclaimed. "Got any leads yet?"

"Nope, that's for you," said Harry, leaving the room feeling pretty pleased with himself. The Hunters were too good at hiding; there was no way that Hermione would get anywhere near their leader.

Once Harry had left, Hermione felt like slapping him. He wasn't really giving her a fair chance, since even the most junior Aurors always received a case file with background information on their targets. But she would manage—she would get this so-called leader. She began with several contacts she had made over the years.

"Do you know anything about the Hunters?" she asked a dirty man with a pipe in his mouth. When the man made no reply, Hermione said threateningly, "Come on, Mundungus, you'll get ten years for those stolen cauldrons I know you have hidden inside that overcoat."

Mundungus Fletcher dropped the pipe in his agitation and replied hastily, "I don't know nothing about the Hunters, but Lenny Cyding might. They got him last week."

It then became apparent that Hermione was going to have to make a trip to Azkaban to talk to the prisoners there who had been brought in by the Hunters.

"The Hunters?" said the thin man with missing teeth. "Them is some scary people, that's fer sure."

"Yes, but did you see any of their faces?" Hermione asked impatiently, beginning to become frustrated with the lack of help she was receiving from everyone.

"Nope, but the one they all took orders from sure was strong—I think he was a blonde."

All of the other interviews went similar to this, although the description of the man she was looking for varied from tall and lean to short and fat, and the hair color changed from person to person. That, combined with the dreary atmosphere from all the dementors, made for a very depressing day.

By her second day on the case, Hermione was back at square one. She lay in her bed inside her small apartment, wondering how on earth she was going to make contact with the Hunters. Then it came to her: the only people who had met the Hunters were criminals. So if she pretended to commit a crime…perhaps the Hunters would come to her. Then it would be a simple matter of finding their leader and arresting him.

As a result of this idea, Hermione found herself in Knockturn Alley hours later, talking with an ugly old man about how tight the security at Borgin and Bourke's was. She took pains to make sure that she was talking loud enough for any passersby to hear, hoping that a member of the Hunters would be informed.

"Hypothetically of course, who would be easier to take down, Borgin or Bourke?" she asked loudly, not troubling to keep her voice down.

"Borgin," said the seedy man, his eyes focused on the flesh revealed by the modest V-neck of Hermione's shirt. "He's smaller and less cautious. He works from seven p.m. to seven a.m."

"Thank you, sir," said Hermione demurely, resisting the urge to add _pervert_ onto that sentence.

At seven o'clock that night, Hermione waited for Bourke to leave and Borgin to show up. As the two men changed shifts, Hermione prepared to enter the store. If her plan failed and none of the Hunters showed up, she would just pretend to be interested in some Dark artifact. She certainly wasn't going to _actually_ rob the place. She had just stood up from her hiding place behind the trash cans when a piece of metal came down hard on the back of her head. She was down with one blow, not even getting a chance to draw her wand.

When Hermione came to, she was blindfolded and gagged, tied to sort of chair or bench. She tried to shift around and noticed that her hands were tied behind her. Her wand was no longer in her pocket. She heard breathing.

"Finally awake, are we? You're quite a pathetic criminal, broadcasting your crimes through town. How many people were with you to rob that store?" a cold male voice asked her. It came from somewhere behind her. Hermione tried to answer, but the heavy cloth in her mouth restricted her words.

"Waddiwasi!" snapped the person, and the gag shot out of her mouth. "Answer," he spat.

Hermione licked her lips nervously. "No one; I was alone."

This was not how Hermione had pictured her raid going; she was supposed to have overpowered whatever Hunter had come after her and then commanded him to take her to his leader.

"Yes," said the person quietly, answering the whispered question of another man. A hand slapped Hermione hard in the face and she cried out with the shock and force of it. "Tell the truth."

"Who are you? Where am I" she asked. "And I _was_ telling the truth."

"You're currently a guest of the Hunters. Now, why would a girl like you want to rob a place like that? And all by yourself?"

Hermione knew that she couldn't say she was an Auror; Merlin only knows what they would do to her! She clammed up and wouldn't answer another question, which infuriated her interrogator.

"Do you know what will happen if you don't start talking?" the person asked in a quiet, deadly voice. When Hermione didn't answer, he continued. "I'll give you to my men to do what they want with you."

Hermione visibly flinched at this. What kind of depravity would she be subjected to? The person noticed and went on. "And when they are finished—if you are alive by that time—I will drop you off at the Ministry for them to deal with."

"I haven't done anything wrong," Hermione informed him haughtily, her voice strong despite the first twinge of fear

"Robbery is a crime, scum. Just because you didn't get to go through with it doesn't mean you're any better than a thief."

"You have no proof," said Hermione stubbornly, wrenching at her restraints.

"But here's the thing," the person said nonchalantly. "We don't care about proof. You can have her," he said, presumably to the person who had slapped Hermione before.

Hermione's hands were unbound and she was thrown over the shoulder of a man who felt very burly and strong. She let out a shriek as she was carried away, and the man who was holding her said gruffly, "Oh, I love a screamer!"

The leader of the Hunters put his head in his hands as he watched Marcus carry the girl away. She looked so familiar, though with the blindfold and dim lighting he couldn't tell who she was. He hated it when the Hunters captured females, particularly because then he would be besieged by requests from his men to "interrogate" them. And besides, people in the Ministry would be much more inclined to arrest the Hunters if they were going around using Unforgivables on women. But, criminals were criminals, no matter what the gender.

Of course, Marcus was on strict orders _not_ to actually hurt the girl, but to threaten her until she spoke. All the leader needed from the girl was to know who her companions were—and she had to have had some, because she wouldn't try to rob a store owned by experienced Dark Wizards by herself—and then he would release her to the Ministry of Magic. Having all of the culprits in a crime was very important to the leader of the Hunters. He loathed leaving things unfinished.

Hermione was thrown down on a stone floor and her head hit hard, nearly knocking her out again.

"Now…where to start?" said the man; his voice was different than the other man's—his was deeper and more guttural. If Hermione could hazard a guess, she would say that he was black. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" He began listing obscene things ranging from sexual injury to physical torture.

Hermione remained silent. Other than a slight paleness to her face, there was no other sign that Marcus was bothering her with his threats.

Marcus was getting worried—the girl wasn't giving up any information. Most female prisoners would have cracked by now. He was not allowed to hurt her visibly, and the severity of her attempted crime was not great enough to warrant the use of the Cruciatus curse.

Hermione promised herself that no matter what they did to her, she would not say a word. She would prove to herself that she was strong enough to endure whatever might come. But then she felt strong, large hands tighten on the waistband of her black jeans. One hand slipped inside her pants and gripped her underwear. Hermione remained still, though she bit her lip hard enough to make it bleed. She wasn't going down without a fight, but she would wait until she had an opportunity to attack. Being blindfolded and bound was putting her at a severe disadvantage.

"Are you going to give up who your companions were, or shall I go through with this?" the man asked, leaning down close to speak in Hermione's face. His breath smelled like beef jerky and she nearly gagged. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that this was her chance.

Hermione pulled her legs up and launched upward at where the man's groin must be. She heard him cry out in pain before his fist connected solidly with her cheek and she knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

"Boss, she's not giving up anything," Marcus growled as he walked into the office of the leader of the Hunters. He hated failing his leader. "I've done everything I can. What do I do?"

"Hmm…" mused the leader. "Bring her here and let me speak to her."

As Marcus went to fetch Hermione, the leader thought, _Who _is _this girl?_

Marcus brought Hermione to his leader and tied her to the same chair she had been in before. "She's unconscious," he said, glancing down at the floor warily.

"How did she get that way?"

"She kicked me in the balls and I punished her for it!"

"Damn it, Marcus, you know those Ministry fools are already looking for reasons to arrest us, and causing visible damage—especially on a girl—will just encourage them!"

"Sorry, boss."

"Just...wait outside while I speak to her." Once Marcus left, the leader of the Hunters pointed his wand at Hermione said, "_Ennervate._"

Hermione visibly stirred, and then strained in her chair to figure out how securely tied up she was. "You're going to be sorry for this," she said weakly, trying to ignore the pain in her cheek.

"Why don't you give up?" drawled the same voice that Hermione had first heard; he must be the leader.

"Because you petty criminals are nothing compared to the Dark Lord," spat Hermione strongly. "I'd be dead by now if I was captured by Voldemort."

"Yes, you would—trust me," replied the leader.

"Are you a former Death Eater?" asked Hermione; if he was, she could narrow her search down by quite a bit.

"How many companions did you have?" countered the man.

When Hermione didn't answer, he said, his voice raised a bit in frustration, "Do you _want_ to be raped and beaten?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. This "leader" had just shown his hand. He wouldn't be so frustrated if he was actually going to hurt her. In that case, she might as well reveal her identity and get this over with. "Of course not, what a ridiculous question to ask," said Hermione condescendingly. "Let's start with names. I'm Auror Hermione Granger. I would hold out a hand to shake, but I seem to be a bit tied up at the moment," she said sarcastically.

The leader said nothing, but his mind was racing: he _did_ know this girl. And she wasn't just a girl, she was an Auror.

"You see, this is where you introduce yourself," said Hermione coaxingly. "My name is so-and-so, and I am the leader of the Hunters."

"Why are you here?"

"Because you kidnapped me."

"Why did you pretend to rob Borgin and Bourkes?" he asked, revising his question.

"Ah, finally a relevant question. Of course I was never going to actually rob a store—I just needed to be brought to you so I can arrest you." Hermione had a smirk on her face as she continued. "So if you'll kindly untie me, I can bring you back to the Ministry to be arrested."

"And if I don't release you?" the cold voice was politely incredulous.

"Then I shall just have to escape and begin writing the profile on you that I have amassed," said Hermione bluntly.

"And what would that be?" the leader asked, beginning to be intrigued.

"That you're male, probably not that much older than me, perhaps the son of a Death Eater or maybe you _were _a Death Eater. That you have a well-bred tone so you must have been born rich."

The leader then said icily, "Well, since you know all that, I simply have to kill you." He was bluffing.

"You can't," she said simply. Without waiting for him to ask why not, she went on, "If you kill me, then Harry Potter will be all over you; right now you're just a case that he gave to me because he didn't want to put me in danger, but if I show up dead, he will hunt you to the ends of the earth—and believe me, he's a fantastic Auror."

"I'm not afraid of Potter," snarled the leader, and all of a sudden, Hermione recognized that scornful, haughty tone.

"_Draco Malfoy?_"

The leader hesitated for a second too long in making his reply to that and it was by that that Hermione knew she was correct in her guess. "Oh my God, I never would have guessed it," she mocked. "Draco Malfoy has a spine! And here I thought you were just spending your days crawling around in a sewer, looking for fellow snakes to pass the time with."

"Shut up, Granger," he sneered, for all the world sounding like he had in their Hogwarts days.

"You can take the blindfold off now, Malfoy, since I know who you are," Hermione informed him. "All I have to do now is escape, and you'll be taken down."

Draco Malfoy, leader of the Hunters, waved his wand lazily to remove her blindfold.

Hermione glanced around, taking in her surroundings. She was in a green-themed office that looked like it had taken thousands of dollars—or Galleons—to decorate. Then again, it was no secret that the Malfoys were filthy rich—in all senses of the words. The room was lit by floating balls of light that swam lazily around the twenty-foot ceiling. Portraits lined the walls, their occupants gazing with interest at the scene unfolding in front of them. A huge desk took up the center of the room; made of a rich, dark mahogany, it looked to be more expensive than most people spend on their entire houses. The only things in the room that looked out of place were the three enormous filing cabinets that took up the back wall. They were labeled alphabetically, and judging by the Ministry of Magic leaflet hanging out of one of them, looked to be information on wanted criminals.

Draco Malfoy himself had changed quite a bit since their school days; he was a bit taller, and though he was still lean, she could see the powerful corded muscle in his arms. This was to be expected from the leader of a gang of criminals, Hermione thought in disgust. He still had the Malfoys' signature platinum-blond hair, though it wasn't gelled back anymore. There was something in his eyes now that hadn't been there when he had been at Hogwarts. It was a dangerous gleam in his eyes, something that said he would risk anything for something he cared about—in this case, the future of the Hunters.

"You won't escape, Granger," he growled at her. Hermione's confident expression dimmed slightly. "In fact, you have caused quite a predicament for yourself. I can't kill you, I can't let you go. Therefore, you will be kept locked up."

"You can't keep me here forever!"

"Watch me," Draco sneered, calling in the big black man who had tried to interrogate Hermione before. "Marcus. Take her to the North Wing and lock her in a room."

"Yes, boss," said Marcus. He gave Hermione a dark look, telling her with his eyes that he hadn't forgotten her kick to the groin. "Treatment orders?"

"No rape, no physical abuse," Draco said sternly. "And pass that on to the others. Where's her wand?"

"Here," Marcus said sulkily, holding up Hermione's wand.

Draco took it and dropped it casually into a desk drawer, locking that drawer with a golden key.

"But she's a criminal! _No _torture?" Marcus asked pleadingly. He clasped his hands in front of him hopefully.

Draco replied firmly, his mouth in a hard line, "None whatsoever. Or molestation—she is to be left completely alone. She isn't a criminal."

"Boss! She's not blindfolded!" said Marcus, shocked.

"She won't be leaving, so it's not a problem."

"You fucking asshole!" Hermione spat. "You're going to regret this."

Draco waved a hand lazily and Hermione was taken away. Marcus retied Hermione's hands in front of her and pulled her along by the end of the rope. Marcus led her out of the office and down a long corridor. Their footprints didn't make a sound on the thick, plush carpet on the floor.

Hermione's anger faded fast as she snapped into Auror mode. She would find out all she could about the Hunters before she began attempting to escape. "Why do you work under Malfoy?" she asked Marcus curiously, trying to find a weakness.

"Because he's a good leader," answered Marcus stiffly, pulling her up the stairs, "even if he's too strict about prisoner treatment."

"What do you mean?"

"He barely lets us hurt them…except the former Death Eaters and anyone involved in assault—we get to have our fun with them. But the pretty ones," Marcus leered at her, "he doesn't even let us have a bit of fun with—except the ones that don't give up information."

"How many of you are there?" Hermione asked, storing everything she heard into her memory.

"Thirty-three," he said, and the ease with which he answered her questions worried Hermione—what if she wasn't able to escape after all?

It felt like hours that she walked up stairs and through corridors until finally, they reached a door that Marcus stopped at. He shoved her roughly through the door and followed her inside.

"You will be brought food by house elves," he said in a bored tone. "No one is allowed to enter this room but the boss and house elves, so if you see anyone else, I suggest you let the boss know. You can contact him with this button here"—Marcus pointed to a button near the door—"and he'll come up, provided that he is at his manor at the time."

And by this slip, Hermione realized where she was: Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. "Tell me, Marcus. You have to know Draco Malfoy pretty well: is he really going to keep me here for years?"

"What do you think?"

Hermione dropped her gaze to the ground. "I was hoping he'd maybe gotten less stubborn since Hogwarts."

"Not a chance," said Marcus. "I'm leaving now—don't try to escape, it won't work."

Once Marcus left, Hermione freed her hands and explored every inch of the room she was in. It was decorated in green and silver—just like Slytherin, of course—and there was a large bed in the corner. She searched the adjoining bathroom for razors or anything else she could use as a weapon, but there was nothing in there of any use. Hermione looked out the window that was to the right of the bed and sighed.

All she'd wanted was to be an Auror, but now she was being held captive by her previous school enemy. It would take Harry at least a week before he started looking for her, since he would assume she was working on her case. When she didn't report weekly like she was supposed to, Harry would begin to get worried. Worry would turn to terror, and then he would send Aurors after her.

But, she realized, she could make this hell for Malfoy too.

With a gleeful smirk, Hermione banged her fist on the button that was supposed to call Malfoy.

Ten minutes later, the door to her room opened and Draco Malfoy came in, slightly out of breath from running up all of the stairs. "What?" he asked her, a bit annoyed.

"Oh—that's what that button does?" Hermione said innocently. "Cool."

With a dire threat and a rude hand gesture, Draco left, and Hermione smirked to herself. She rummaged around under the bed, still looking for some kind of weapon—anything she could use to escape her prison. There was absolutely nothing useful in the room or bathroom.

Over the next three hours, Hermione amused herself by pressing the call button seven more times, getting more and more elated at his obvious anger and frustration that she was responsible for causing.

Hermione was lying on her back on the bed, which she was displeased to find was very comfortable, when the door suddenly unlocked and opened. "I didn't call you this time, Malfoy," Hermione said lazily, without turning around to face the door.

"Well, then, it's good I'm not Malfoy, eh?" said the voice of a man that Hermione hadn't previously seen or heard. She slid off the bed and stood imperiously, giving the man a quick once-over.

He looked about in his late twenties to early thirties, with short cropped blonde hair and blue eyes. He was very stocky and muscled—very compact, very…German.

"What do you want?" she snapped, though a thought was nagging at her…something Marcus had said.

"I'm bored and need some fun," said the man, his eyes roaming her body. "You look like you could provide it quite well. I'm Fynn," he informed her. His gaze was predatory and made her very uneasy. He stalked towards the bed, grinning.

"Get out of here," snarled Hermione, finally recalling what Marcus had said: no one was to be in her room but Malfoy, so why was this lunatic here?

"Let's go, baby," were Fynn's last cliché words before he lunged for her.

Hermione's quick reflexes helped her dodge Fynn's attack. She ran back to the door and hit the call button as hard as she could, holding it down for seconds at a time. The door to the room was open and Hermione seized her chance to run through it. She made it halfway down one flight of the deserted staircase, her heart in her throat as she pounded down the stairs.

She nearly broke her neck as a hand caught her ponytail and wrenched backwards. She shrieked as Fynn took advantage of her shock and pain to knock her legs from under her and drag her back to the room. He locked the door behind him this time and advanced on her.

Hermione scrambled to her feet, backed up as far as she could against the wall, and prayed that someone could help her. Common sense, though, told her that she was on her own this time. It was time to fight back.

"Don't fight it, bitch," snarled the man. "You're all alone here. No one cares about what happens in this room." Fynn pinned her against the wall and shoved his lips down upon hers, bruising her lips with the force of his unwanted kiss.

Hermione brought her right knee up sharply to connect with his groin. The result of her blow was a high-pitched shriek that hurt her ears to listen to. The revolting kiss ended as Fynn grabbed himself with both hands. She thrust her hands into his front pocket, searching for his wand. Just as her fingers closed upon it, however, Fynn recovered enough to shove her backwards into one of the posts on the bed.

Hermione was unable to contain her gasp of pain as her head connected hard with the elaborately carved wooden bedpost. She got in a good blow to his left eye, though she paid for it when he hit her hard in the throat. Unable to draw breath, she collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain.

Fynn forcefully ripped off Hermione's pants and was pulling his own pants down when the door suddenly burst open and Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, looking furious.

"What is it _this_ time?" he yelled, apparently thinking that Hermione had been messing around again by pressing the button.

Hermione took advantage of Fynn's pause to stumble over to Draco, falling to the floor at his feet. She grasped her throat tightly, trying desperately to breathe.

Draco correctly interpreted the scene in front of him and instantly flew into a rage. "Merlin!" he roared. "What did I _tell_ all of you?"

Had Hermione been in any mood to notice, she would have laughed at the expression on Fynn's face; he was plainly terrified of Draco.

"Get out of here, and if I ever catch you anywhere _near _this prisoner again, YOU'LL PAY IN MORE THAN ONE WAY!"

Fynn paled and ran from the room, pulling his pants up along the way as he cast one last menacing look at Hermione.

"Granger," snapped Draco, nudging the fallen girl with his foot. When Hermione didn't respond, Draco raised his voice. "Granger!"

Hermione was out cold on the floor in front of him. He picked her up easily in his arms and carried her over to the bed, frowning when he didn't feel her moving or breathing.

After laying her on the bed, Draco watched her chest and noticed that there was no rise and fall of her breaths. "Shit!" For all his vehement denials, Draco really was afraid of Harry Potter's reaction should he find out that his precious mudblood was dead by his hand.

He pointed his wand at her and spoke the spell to make her breathe again, but it wouldn't work for some reason. Then he noticed the massive bruise on her neck and realized where the blockage was. He quickly healed her throat and then performed the breathing spell.

Hermione inhaled sharply and began to cough; Draco quickly stepped back. "More clothes will be brought up for you," he said tonelessly, not letting an ounce of emotion show as she looked at him almost tearfully.

"What—" Hermione tried to keep her voice steady. "What if he comes back?"

"You'll just have to deal with it, then, won't you?" said Draco cruelly.

Hermione became aware of the fact that she was not wearing pants, thanks to Flynn's assault, and she slid under the covers embarrassedly.

"But—I don't have a wand," she whispered, beginning to become frightened that Malfoy really wasn't going to protect her from Fynn.

"Then you shouldn't have been so foolish and come here!" yelled Draco. "You screwed everything up! Don't you realize that you can _never_ leave?"

"Just give me my wand so that I can protect myself! Malfoy, you saw him—he'll kill me if he can get his hands on me again," she said pleadingly.

"Then you should have given him what he wanted," Draco said coldly. He didn't let himself feel any pity even as he saw the blue and purple bruises left from Fynn's blows and earlier, Marcus's fist.

"Never," spat Hermione.

"Then whatever happens to you is your own fault," he said heartlessly. Draco strode out the door and locked it behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione curled up under the covers in the room that she was imprisoned in, keeping her eyes closed tight as she desperately tried to think of a way out of her situation. The windows were made of unbreakable glass and the door was sealed tightly. There would be no escape from either of those ways unless she somehow got ahold of a wand. Tears threatened to fall from her brown eyes as she considered the utter hopelessness of her situation. She drifted into a napping state for several hours until she heard a soft pop.

"Miss?"

At hearing the small, squeaky voice, Hermione looked over the comforter on the bed and saw a small, female house elf standing on the bedpost.

"Twinkle has brought Miss some clothes since hers was ruined," said the elf, pointing at a small bundle on the floor.

"Thank you, Twinkle," Hermione said, sniffling a bit.

"Is no problem, Miss. Master Malfoy has ordered Twinkle to bring Miss whatever Miss wishes to eat or drink," squeaked the elf, eager to help.

"Twinkle, can you bring me alcohol?" Hermione asked, on a whim. There were conventional methods of training taught to all the Aurors, and then there was specialized training given to the female trainees to help them make full use of their bodies, if the need arose. The alcohol was obviously not part of the training, but Hermione didn't feel that she would be able to go through with what she had to do if she were sober for it.

"Drinking alcohol, or disinfecting alcohol, Miss?" asked Twinkle.

"Drinking," Hermione clarified.

"Yes, Miss!" exclaimed the elf, looking elated to be able to do something for her. "What kind, Miss?"

"Whatever has the most alcohol in it," Hermione said.

"Twinkle will get some for Miss," said Twinkle, disappearing with a crack.

Hermione scrambled into the clothes: a green t-shirt that had a large glittering serpent on it and black pants with sparkles down the side. She wondered where they were from as she swiftly put them on.

Twinkle came back moments later with four bottles of Cadogan's Finest Firewhiskey on a tray. "Is there anything else Miss requires?" Twinkle asked as she set the tray down on the heavy wooden dresser.

"No, Twinkle, thank you."

"Twinkle will be back later to get Miss's dinner," Twinkle informed her before bowing and disappearing.

Hermione sat down against the dresser and opened one of the bottles of Firewhiskey. The first sip made her gag, but after that, she decided that she quite liked the taste of the drink and consumed nearly an entire bottle in a very short span of time. As she drank, she nearly forgot why she was drinking in the first place. That is, until the door opened next to her.

Hermione clumsily jumped to her feet, fear shooting through her. But it was only Draco, looking bemused at her terrified expression. "Just making sure there's no funny business going on in here, Granger."

Through the haze in her brain, Hermione processed that he might have actually come in here to check on her to make sure that she was okay. Thoughts like that were much too complex for her to handle at the moment, however. "Hey," said Hermione seductively, pulling him into the room and shutting the door behind her.

Draco allowed himself to be led inside the room, not noticing the empty Firewhiskey bottle on the dresser. "What now, Granger?"

Before he could say more, Hermione slid her hands down the front of his pants and Draco jackknifed into the air, dislodging her. "What are you doing?"

Hermione slowly took off her shirt, revealing no bra beneath, and Draco sucked in a breath. She approached him and ran her hands over the bulge in Draco's pants that he wasn't quick enough to hide.

Draco was almost butter in Hermione's hands as she pushed him onto the bed and slid her hands under his shirt, feeling the well-toned muscles beneath.

"Your muscles drive me crazy," she purred, her warm breath on his ear doing strange things to his brain. A woman with confidence was one of Draco's biggest turn-ons, second only to the feeling of a woman's voice whispering in his ear, both of which were happening now and driving him crazy.

"Uh…" was all Draco could get out as Hermione straddled him and kissed his neck.

She rocked gently and heard him groan; Draco was lost. He sought out her lips with his and kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth with hard, velvety strokes. His hands reached up almost of their own accord and stroked her breasts, much gentler than she had expected him to be.

When Hermione reached for the buckle on Draco's pants, he became suspicious; here was a girl who had almost been raped, and now she was trying to seduce _him_, the person who was holding her captive?

Draco nearly took her right then but for that urgent thought that had run through his mind; why was she doing this? She returned her lips to his again and Draco realized that she tasted of firewhiskey—a LOT of firewhiskey.

_Damn it!_ he cursed inwardly, furious with himself for some reason. "Granger, stop," he groaned, feeling like if she rocked against him again he would lose control. Hermione showed no signs of listening to him.

Draco rolled over so he was on top of her and pinned her wrists down on either side of her head, breathing hard. "I'm not doing this," he muttered to her. "It's not right."

Draco left the room stiffly, silently cursing Potter for causing this whole mess.

Hermione passed out soon after, exhausted from the stress and the alcohol.

She woke up the next morning with a horrific headache and her mouth felt fuzzy. When she remembered flashes of the night before, she felt mortified at what she had done. She felt something digging into her back and shifted away on the bed uncomfortably. Reaching behind her, trying not to move her head too much, Hermione felt a wooden stick that felt remarkably like…a wand! She brought it to her eyes, barely able to believe it was true—she had succeeded in stealing Malfoy's wand from him.

Hermione got to her feet laboriously and crawled out of the bed, pulling her shirt over her head on the way.

"_Alohomora!_" she said, pointing Draco's wand at the locked door of her room, which unlocked with a click. Hermione then pointed the wand at her head and muttered a handy spell for getting rid of her hangover. With one last glance around the room, Hermione walked out the door.

She fumbled her way through the mansion for nearly an hour before she located what she thought was the entrance hall. Taking care to tread softly, Hermione crept across the hall toward the large front door. She opened it quietly and slipped out, breaking into a run once she had cleared the door.

"Hermione!" Harry pulled her into his arms. "What happened?"

Hermione had stumbled into the Auror office, wearing clothes other than her own and sporting a black and blue face. "Hi Harry," she said, before falling unconscious into his arms.

"Hermione. Hermione!"

Hermione opened her eyes slowly at the sound of Harry's concerned voice. She was lying on her back on the floor of Harry's Head Auror office, her head propped up by a wadded-up cloak.

"What happened to you?" he asked her, healing the bruises on her face with a wave of his wand.

"I—" Hermione suddenly decided on the spot that she wasn't going to give up Draco Malfoy to Harry; she wanted to have the satisfaction of bringing him down herself and besides, he had her wand, which she would get back even if she had to pry it from his cold, dead fingers. "I had a little trouble with one of my contacts," she said instead.

Harry didn't say anything for a few moments, waiting for her to elaborate. "Well, who was it? We need to bring him in—arrest him!" Harry was in full-on Auror mode at this point.

"No, Harry, I hurt him more than he hurt me and learned what I needed to from him. I'm fine," she tried to say convincingly.

"He hurt you!" roared Harry.

"I am _fine_."

"Hermione!"

"Harry."

"Stop—"

"Doing this," finished Hermione.

Harry sighed, running his fingers through his raven-colored hair. "Fine, Hermione, whatever you want," he conceded. "Oh—Ginny told me to ask you if you want to come over for dinner at our place on Saturday night."

"Sure," said Hermione warmly, glad that she had won the argument. "I'll be there." To appease her friend, she told him that she was going to go back to her flat and just relax.

Okay, so she wasn't really going to relax, she was going to _plot._

Same difference, really.

Once back at her apartment, she began to think. There were thirty-three Hunters, if Marcus had been telling the truth. The ones that Hermione could actually arrest and charge were Marcus, Fynn, and Draco. She looked Marcus and Fynn up in the Auror's records and found information about them.

Marcus Dryciano was 27 years old and had been arrested once for cursing a muggle. Rynell Fynn was 34 years old and had been arrested for sexual assault twice before on muggles and once before on a witch. Draco Malfoy didn't have a record, but by the time Hermione was through with him, he would have a record longer than that of a true Death Eater.

Once she was through with her research, Hermione got into the shower and scrubbed for ages, getting both real and imaginary dirt off. The warm water cascading around her felt heavenly, and she remained in the shower for nearly an hour.

An hour later, when she finally left her small shower, Hermione found her towel missing, though she could have sworn that she had left it on the edge of the sink. Frowning slightly, she walked to the towel pantry and grabbed another. Right after she had wrapped the fluffy towel around her body, Hermione was stopped by a wand tip digging into her neck.

"Hello again, sweet one," said a whispered voice in her ear. Hermione's blood ran cold. It was the cold, halting voice of Fynn. "You made me very unhappy the last time we were together."

"Really? Good," snarled Hermione, not in the mood for civilities. She tried to jerk away without dislodging her towel, but Fynn shoved the wand into her neck harder until she whimpered.

"So I came to find you, to finish our little encounter," he continued, completely ignoring her, "and here I find you already undressed and waiting for me." By the simple means of his sharp wand, Fynn forced Hermione to walk back to her bedroom as he spoke. "Oh, the boss was so angry with me—said you were out-of-bounds. The stupid boy, he's much too soft."

Though she was frightened, Hermione was surprised that Draco had been angry with Fynn over her; his attitude after reviving her had been one of utmost indifference.

"Come now, take off that towel," he hissed into her ear.

Hermione stepped away from him as if she was about to take her towel off, but instead, she grabbed Draco's wand from her dresser and pointed it at him, yelling, "_Stupefy!"_

The spell missed and Fynn shot a Cruciatus Curse at her, which Hermione ducked. Flashes of light were shooting in all directions as each tried to get a clear shot at the other.

"_Tarantallegra!"_

Fynn's legs began to dance uncontrollably, but in the brief moment that Hermione had looked at her handiwork, he managed to get off a glancing blow with a Bone-Crushing curse that broke every bone in her wand arm.

Hermione screamed as her arm was smashed by the curse, nearly fainting with the pain. All she could try and hit Fynn with now was stunning charms, because she couldn't think of any others that she could use with her left hand. Since most spells and charms required wrist movements, Hermione hadn't learned how to do them in the reverse for her left hand, which she was definitely going to make sure was a part of Auror training if she survived.

Fynn had performed the counterjinx to the leg-dancing jinx and was now walking on two feet toward her. Hermione shot three stunners in a row at Fynn through the haze of pain that was in her right arm.

Fynn managed to duck two of the three stunners, but the last one hit him in the chest and he fell, unconscious, to the ground.

After grabbing his wand, Hermione hurriedly got dressed in her Auror robes as best as she could with a broken arm that she couldn't heal by herself since she didn't know the left-handed wand wave for the healing spell to work. A loud pounding on her door distracted her from her plans to apparate to St. Mungo's.

The horrible pounding pain in Hermione's arm was almost debilitating as she walked over to the door. Two men stood outside, dressed in plain black robes. "Are you all right, ma'am?" the taller one asked, his face partially hidden by his hood. He had plainly seen her breathing hard and in pain as her right arm hung at an awkward angle by her side.

Hermione debated about saying yes, but as black dots swam in front of her eyes, she realized that Fynn could wake up any moment and she would be helpless to stop him. "No," she said.

"Can we help you?" said the shorter one. "What's wrong?"

"One of the Hunters came after me," said Hermione, now leaning on the doorframe to stay conscious, "and he's stunned in my bedroom. My arm is broken and I can't heal it."

"We can help, right Sam?" said the taller one.

"Yeah, we'll come in and round him up," offered Sam.

"Wait," Hermione said suspiciously. "Who are you and why are you two here, anyway?"

"Well," said the tall one, with a glance at Sam. "We're also Hunters, and we've been told to bring you back to Mr. Malfoy—he says he has some unfinished business with you."

Hermione whirled around to try to shut the door, but the other two were too fast; one darted past her and went to go find Fynn while the other scooped her up carefully in his arms and disapparated.

The reappeared outside Malfoy Manor, and Hermione found herself being carried swiftly into Draco's office, which was on the first floor. The Hunter holding her set Hermione on her feet, and she wavered, placing a hand on the bookcase next to her to steady herself.

Draco, sitting at the desk in front of her, saw the way her arm hung at the wrong angle and instantly rounded on the Hunter who had brought her to him. "I told you she wasn't to be harmed!" said Draco furiously, fingering the wand on his desk.

"Sir! It wasn't us—Fynn got there first and he was the one who attacked her," explained the tall one, his eyes darting from Hermione to Draco. "Sam's on the way—he's got Fynn. He broke her arm before she stunned him."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione asked roughly, her vision dimming.

Hermione watched as Malfoy appeared to be answering her, but she couldn't hear anything but the roaring in her ears. She blinked rapidly, wondering why he looked so concerned when he was the one who had ordered her to be kidnapped. She watched as Malfoy moved almost in slow motion around his desk toward her. Hermione tried to meet him halfway and punch him in the nose, but ended up falling into his arms. Before she passed out, the last thing Hermione saw were Draco's stunning gray eyes looking down at her.

There was something above her—something silvery. Hermione reached up to try and catch it; maybe it was the moon!

"Granger. Are you awake? Granger! Put your hand down and open your eyes."

Hermione realized where she was and closed her eyes tightly, hearing Draco's silky voice speaking to her.

"I can very easily call your friend Fynn back here," Draco threatened.

"Then I'll just kick his ass like I did the last time," replied Hermione stubbornly, her eyes still closed.

"Last time?" Draco's voice held a hint of laughter. "Granger, last time you two tangled, you ended up with every bone in your wand arm crushed and he was just stunned."

Hermione's eyes shot open and she glared up at him reproachfully. "If you hadn't sent that pervert after me in the first place, none of this would have happened," she snapped. She was lying on the couch of Draco's office, and Draco was sitting next to her in a chair. Hermione tried to move her arm but it was tied in a splint and still painful. The room was empty but for the two of them.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Granger, for being such an insufferable know it all, you sure can be dense."

"Don't you call _me_ a know it all, Draco Malfoy," snarled Hermione, her eyes flashing dangerously. "You're the one who tried desperately, year after year, to get higher grades than me, and it didn't work. Tell me, Malfoy, how did your father take it when you were beaten by a muggleborn?"

"Sod off, Granger," snapped Malfoy. "And just to make things perfectly clear, I did not send Fynn after you; it was a mistake hiring him to begin with. Clearly, he's too violent and unwilling to follow my commands."

"What are you going to do with him?" Hermione asked curiously, wondering how things were done in the Hunter group.

"Kill him," said Draco easily.

Hermione gasped. "Why so extreme?"

"Because he disobeyed me _twice_ in two days, and more in the past, Granger. I will not have him sully the name of the Hunters by turning them into a group of rapist thugs," said Draco.

"Malfoy, you told that Marcus character to molest me," Hermione laughed. "That really doesn't bode well for the Hunters' reputation."

"I do what I have to for information," said Draco. He leaned back in his chair. "As for why you are here, I would like my wand back."

"As would I," sneered Hermione.

"Shut up, Granger."

"Give me my wand."

"Are you going to have Potter arrest me?"

"No." When Draco looked relieved, Hermione continued, "_I_ am going to arrest you."

"I do a valuable service to the Wizarding world," Draco informed her.

"Bull. You're a sadistic creep who uses the law as a joke to get your violence kick."

"Well, you're a silly mudblood who follows Potter's every whim, instead of what you want."

"Why did you get angry with that Hunter when you thought he hurt me?" Hermione threw out the question, hoping to unbalance him.

"Because I told him not to and I get angry when people disobey me," lied Draco. Hermione could tell he was lying because he avoided eye contact with her for the first time. The real reason, which Hermione was not to know, was that Draco almost admired her strength and cleverness in both not giving in to Marcus's interrogation and escaping his mansion, though it admittedly made her all the more dangerous to him and his followers.

A wave of pain washed through Hermione's arm and she gritted her teeth. "Would you heal my arm?" she hissed.

"Maybe…" said Malfoy cryptically. "But you have to do something for me first."

"What?"

"The price of your freedom is one night with me," he said, his eyes unreadable.

"Are you joking?"

"Yes."

"Bastard."

"Thank you."

Malfoy waved his wand at her arm, healing it instantly. Then he vanished the splint and tossed her back her wand, having found his own in her robes while she was unconscious. Hermione stood upright and pointed her wand at Malfoy. "Draco Malfoy, you are under arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder," she said. "You will surrender your wand and come quietly or I shall have to bring you in by force."

Malfoy looked at her incredulously and laughed. "Right, Granger. I'm letting you go—let's have that be enough for now."

Before Hermione could retort, there was a crack and Sam appeared in the office with Fynn.

"Boss," said Fynn, looking at Draco.

Rynell Fynn actually looked civil when he wasn't mad with lust and rage. "I swear to you that I did not go after the girl. She invited me to her house; said she had something to tell me. I only attacked her in self defense! The bitch lured me there."

Draco blinked, thrown off guard by this.

Hermione, frightened, half-expected him to attack her that instant. But Fynn never once looked at her; he just looked calmly at Malfoy and spoke sincerely.

"I even have the letter still," said Fynn, pulling a piece of parchment out of his robes and handing it to Malfoy. The parchment was heavily scented with perfume; Hermione wasn't even holding it and she could smell it. The opposite side of the letter said in curling script: My dear Rynell.

Draco's eyes scanned the letter quickly and his features darkened. He looked at Hermione, his gray eyes electric with anger.

"I supposed I shouldn't have doubted you, Fynn," he said. "Take the girl to the room she was in before and lock her in. The two of you can enjoy yourselves in there."

Hermione was stricken already, but then Draco struck the final blow. "And disable the call button—I don't need to be bothered with any of her lies."

"Malfoy, I—" Hermione was cut off by Draco's wand pointing at her and silencing her.

In one quick movement, Fynn disarmed her. He then bowed to Draco and said reverently, "I am sorry for her making you believe me a traitor, sir."

Draco nodded and waved his hand to dismiss them.

Hermione was nearly petrified as the one man in the world that she had become afraid of dragged her up the richly-carpeted stairs that led to the room where she had been imprisoned before.

"I've been looking forward to this," he hissed in her ear, his hot breath making her shiver with fear.

Once they were inside the room, Fynn pulled a small silver rectangle from his robes.

Hermione instinctively reached for her wand, but it wasn't there, of course.

Fynn sneered at Hermione before he pressed a button on the side of the box. A female voice came out of it, and Hermione realized almost instantly what it was: a tape recorder where some girl's breathy voice was saying the most vulgar things about what she wanted to do to Fynn once she got him alone.

Still silenced by Fynn's spell, Hermione couldn't say a word. The tape went on for several minutes, the only sound in the room.

When the tape was over, Fynn grinned at her and walked towards the door. "I'll be back later, sweet, and you can make good on those promises," he said, smirking and winking as he inwardly congratulated his own ingenuity.

Hermione was frozen with horror; there must be some kind of listening device in the room that Fynn was showing off for by playing the tape.

Once he heard the door close, Draco Malfoy removed the earpiece of the Extendable Ears from his ear and pulled it away from the window. There was nothing further—Fynn was telling the truth, and Granger had lied to him. She was as much a slut as she had shown him that night when she was drunk. That letter had said smoldering things that would have turned on any man—things that were so dirty that Malfoy wondered where she had learned such language. He shrugged and pushed all thoughts of the whore out of his mind in favor of a more palatable thought—what former Death Eater he would capture next.

Hermione turned the room upside down looking for anything that she could use to escape. As before, there was nothing. The silencing spell remained on her for an hour before it wore off on its own.

Twinkle the house elf suddenly appeared at the foot of the bed, and it startled Hermione half to death.

"Would miss like some food?" asked the elf. "Master has forbidden Twinkle to give miss any alcohol, so sorry."

"Twinkle, can you leave Malfoy Manor?" Hermione asked suddenly.

The elf looked frightened. "No, miss—it is forbidden."

Hermione sighed. "My cat is alone in my apartment and I have to feed him," she said sadly.

Twinkle brightened. "Twinkle can bring miss's cat here!" she exclaimed. Then with a wave of the elf's skinny arm, a terrified cat landed on the bed.

"Crookshanks!"

Hermione's cat jumped into her arms, digging its claws into her arms. Hermione laughed, not caring about the scratches that were being left on her arms. She kissed her cat over and over on its face and neck.

"Thank you, Twinkle!"

The house elf bowed before vanishing. Once Twinkle left, Hermione wished that she had remembered to ask for food. She was nearly faint from hunger, as she hadn't eaten in over a day. She lay on the bed with Crookshanks curled up beside her, napping.

Some time later, the door opened, and Hermione woke up instantly from her half-asleep state.

Fynn was back.

"Now that Malfoy's listening devices are gone, I can do what I want with you," he breathed, coming up alongside the bed.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" she screamed, kicking him with both legs in the chest. Her kick didn't do much damage, but Crookshanks leapt at Fynn, hissing and spitting, his claws outstretched to slash at the man's fleshy face.

Screaming, Fynn fled the room, locking it quickly behind him.

Hermione flung her body at the door, trying to break it, but it was solid wood and she was weak from hunger and stress.

"Damn it!" she yelled. She couldn't have just been content to file papers, NO, she had to go and get herself kidnapped. TWICE!

Harry was going to kill her…

When Twinkle brought her food an hour later, Hermione asked the elf if she could get Malfoy to come up.

"No, miss. Twinkle is not high enough ranked to speak to the master. Twinkle can ask Diddle, the head house elf, to ask Master to talk to miss, if miss would like it."

"Yes, please do that," said Hermione. She was desperate to talk to Malfoy—she hadn't written that letter, whatever it said. No sooner had Twinkle disappeared than the door opened again. It was Fynn, looking freshly healed. Faint scars across his face showed where Crookshanks had hurt him, and Fynn looked murderous.

"You are going to pay for that," he said quietly, trapping her between him and the wall.

Hermione flinched as he laid one hand on her cheek, but she made no other movement. She had locked Crookshanks in the bathroom so that if Fynn came back, he wouldn't take his anger out on the cat.

His fingers ran coarsely over her face in a bruising caress.

Hermione remained still as he explored every crevice of her face. Fynn stepped back. "Strip," he said firmly.

"Does that ever work?" she asked him. "No wonder you have problems with women."

Fynn lunged forward and gripped her neck with both hands, strangling her. He forgot to guard his groin again, and Hermione lashed out with her foot, connecting with his most sensitive area. Fynn bellowed and crashed to the floor, tears streaming from his eyes.

Hermione ran to the bathroom door and flung it open, scooping up her beloved cat in her arms as she tore out of the door to the room.

Hermione's feet pounded down the steps, her breaths coming in panicked gasps. She could barely draw enough air to sustain her frantic pace, much less scream for help. Once she got to the first landing, she heard heavy breathing behind her and sped up. By the second landing, Fynn had caught up to her and with a vicious blow slammed her into the wall. With an angry meow, Crookshanks fell out of Hermione's arms and shot down the remaining stairs.

Hermione was nearly knocked unconscious, but she managed to hold on. Her head spun with pain.

Fynn's eyes were practically red with rage and he struck forward with his mouth, locking over her lips and cutting them with his sharp teeth. Hermione whimpered as his tongue plundered her mouth ruthlessly.

Fynn slid one of his knees between her legs, preventing her from kicking him again. She could feel him hard against her thigh. While she may have hurt him earlier with her kick, he clearly got off on forcing himself upon her. When he was through with her mouth, Fynn moved his mouth to her neck, biting her skin punishingly.

Hermione struggled with all her might, but she was confined by his body.

Footsteps approached just after Fynn punched Hermione in the stomach. Hermione's legs gave out from the agony. Fynn thrust his body hard against her, groaning as he reached for the button of her pants.

"Fynn?" came a tentative voice.

"Hey, maybe we shouldn't disturb," said another voice quietly.

Hermione's slightly unfocused eyes managed to see two other Hunters several yards away. "Help—" she said feebly, trying to wriggle away from her attacker.

One of the Hunters came closer. "Dan, I don't think—"

"Oh, shit, he's doing it again," said the other.

Both Hunters ran toward them and pulled Fynn away from Hermione, who sank to the floor, her legs like jelly.

"You know we can't touch the girls, Fynn!"

Fynn roared and tried to get free from the Hunter holding him back.

"What do we do?" asked the one named Dan.

The other leaned down and picked up Hermione in his arms. "I guess we better bring her to the boss."

"Please take me home," said Hermione miserably.

The Hunters walked swiftly down the rest of the stairs, one holding Hermione and the other dragging a furious Fynn.

When Draco saw them enter his office he stood and yelled at them, "Bloody hell! I don't want any part in this! Just let the slut fuck the German and leave me out of it!"

Several tears fell from Hermione's brown eyes, stinging the cuts on her lips.

"No, boss, it's not like that," Dan was quick to say. "Fynn was about to rape her—"

"I've heard that before," said Draco coldly.

"Malfoy," said Hermione, looking at him. "I didn't ever want him. I never wrote that letter, and I didn't invite him to my house; that voice was a tape recording! I wouldn't say any of those things. I certainly didn't punch _myself_ in the face and stomach!"

"Granger, you lie with every fiber of your being," Draco spat.

"What is wrong with you?" yelled Hermione. She pulled her robes apart recklessly, not caring that she was exposing much of her body. "Look at this!" A dark purple bruise was forming where she had recently been hit in the stomach. She ran her tongue over her lips nervously, wincing as the cuts burned.

"If Fynn's being rough with her, then it's because she asked for it," Draco decreed.

Hermione flinched at his cold tone, closing her robes angrily. "Why do you hate me so much?" she asked.

"I despise liars, Granger," said Draco icily, completely hiding the hot rush of guilt that was plaguing him. He had been wrong. The bruise on her stomach was from a vicious punch.

"Oh, how noble of you, Prince of Slytherin," sneered Hermione.

Draco gestured for the other Hunters to leave and they did; Fynn made an obscene hand gesture to Hermione as he left, which Draco didn't notice.

"When I arrest you, it will be the happiest day of my life," said Hermione weakly. She leaned against the wall wearily, certain from the intense pain that she was bleeding internally.

"Is that all?" Draco said, sounding bored. "Shall I have Fynn bring you back to your room now?"

Hermione threw away her pride and was reduced to begging. "Please don't send me back to him. He hasn't raped me yet, but he wasn't that far from it last time and he will this time; he's furious."

"I heard what you said, Granger," Draco revealed, his face still coldly impassive, "all that shit about what you were going to do to Fynn in bed. What a slut."

This last accusation was just too much. "I'm not a slut! I haven't even—" Hermione abruptly stopped, flushing hotly.

Malfoy smirked gleefully, guessing what she had been about to say. "You're a _virgin_, Granger?"

Hermione blushed even deeper. "So what? It's better than being a whore!" she accused him blatantly.

"Do go on," drawled Draco.

"How many girls did you screw at Hogwarts, Malfoy?" Hermione laughed hysterically, tears streaming from her face. All the stress was too much. She was losing it. "Merlin, you had a different girl running out of your dormitory every day!"

"Are you done?" Malfoy asked. He approached her, now quite sure that he had been wrong about her.

Hermione was quiet as he came close to her until he was barely a foot away from her face. Draco put his thumb under his chin and forced her to look into his eyes. His gaze roamed over the bleeding cuts on her lips to the bruise forming under her eye. He ran his finger over her lips, watching as tiny droplets of blood dripped onto his skin. Hermione winced.

Draco pulled away, seeming satisfied with her reaction, and his manner became almost brisk. He held up a vial of blue potion that he had pulled from his pocket.

"Drink this," he said, his breath caressing her moist lips like a warm breeze. To her suspicious gaze, he said impatiently, "It won't hurt you."

So Hermione drank it and she immediately felt slightly dizzy.

Draco held her up so that she didn't fall. His eyes bored into hers, seeming to be the only solid thing in a world that was suddenly spinning. He spoke, and his voice seemed to ring throughout her whole being. Every other sound vanished. "You're going to sleep now, Granger, and when you wake up you'll be back home. I'll take care of Fynn. Forget about me, and forget about the Hunters."

Spinning, spinning, spinning... "My…cat," she said with an effort.

Without even asking what she meant, Draco summoned Crookshanks and banished him to Hermione's apartment.

Hermione's eyes fluttered closed and she fell limp in Draco's arms.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning: some (minor) smut in this chapter.**

Hermione woke up in her apartment on the couch in the living room, Crookshanks purring beside her. Why was she sleeping on the couch? She tried to remember how she had gotten there, but couldn't for some reason.

She stood up, feeling a terrible ache in her stomach as she did so. "Ouch," she murmured, opening her robes to look. There was a large bruise covering most of her stomach that looked very recent. A jolt of fear shot through her as she realized that she had no recollection of how she had gotten the injury. She aimed her wand at her stomach and murmured the bruise-reduction spell. In moments, her stomach looked normal except for a slight yellowing place where the bruise had been. "Why aren't I at work?" she exclaimed, looking at the clock. With a loud crack, she disapparated.

"Harry!" cried Hermione, running into his office. "I'm so sorry I'm late—I don't know what happened, but—" She stopped talking as she saw the look on Harry's face. He was looking at her as if she was crazy. "What?" she asked defensively.

"You said you were going home to rest," Harry said slowly, glancing at the clock on the wall. "That was about eight hours ago. Why did you come back?"

Hermione froze, thinking hard. She suddenly remembered having promised Harry that she would go to rest, but why had she needed to rest? "Why would I need to rest?"

Harry stood up quickly. "Are you okay, Hermione?" he asked with concern. "This is one of the reasons that I didn't want you to have a field assignment! Ever since Ron was—"

"Don't you _dare_ bring that up," Hermione cut him off, her voice deadly and eyes blazing. "Watching Ron die was the worst thing that has ever happened to me—yes it still hurts, but Harry, don't you dare use him as a reason for things I do."

Harry knew that he had gone too far. "Sorry," he muttered.

"I went home to rest because I had trouble with one of my contacts," Hermione went on, trying to remember who she had had trouble with. "But who?"

"You honestly don't remember?" Harry asked, looking carefully at her face with concern.

"Of course I remember," she snapped at him, not wanting to admit anything was wrong. "I'm going to my desk. I'll talk to you later."

Hermione didn't wait for Harry to respond to her. She went quickly to her desk, trying to figure out what had happened. She remembered telling Harry that she'd had trouble with one of her contacts, but she had been lying when she told him that. What had she been covering up? Why did she not remember? Unanswered questions swirled through her head, but before she could try to figure out the answers, Gary trotted into view, nearly vibrating with excitement.

"Harry's put me on the case with you," he announced sitting casually on the edge of her desk. "Do we have any leads yet?"

Hermione sighed—Harry _really_ didn't trust her to do this on her own, did he? "Not yet," she divulged, handing Gary a copy of the file she had begun. "I've interviewed most of the prisoners that the Hunters have brought in, but so far, I've had no luck."

"Okay…so what's next?" asked Gary, his blue eyes alight with the enthusiasm that was always present with him.

"I guess we should put surveillance on—"

"Granger, this goes to you," a voice interrupted. Hayden Ractor, an Auror about eight years her senior, leaned over her cubicle and tossed a file onto her desk. "Try not to screw it up."

"Sod off," snapped Hermione in reply. Ractor had loathed her ever since she had bested him in a training duel in front of their superiors earlier in the year. Ractor had told anyone who would listen that she'd cheated, but even spreading rumors hadn't been able to save his reputation. He was a tall, thin man with fair skin, large hazel eyes, and ash-blonde hair. He might have been handsome but for the expression of scorn that he focused on nearly all those he met.

Ractor sneered and sat down at his desk, which was right on the other side of Hermione's cubicle.

"That guy is such an ass," Gary said quietly, glaring at the wall separating them from Ractor.

"He's a jealous ass," Hermione corrected, opening the file she'd been given.

A bloody face looked up at her from inside the file. Hermione fought back the urge to gag as she rifled through the pictures inside. They were all shots of a dead body, one that had been beaten and slashed with various curses before slowly bleeding to death. Written in Harry's familiar messy scrawl on a post-it note attached to the cover was the message: "Thought to be a victim of the Hunters. Though we usually get them alive, he was placed there in the same manner as those brought in by them."

Hermione showed the file to Gary, whose nose wrinkled in distaste as he, too, looked at the pictures. Once they had both looked at the photos, they leaned together over the identification part of the file.

**Name:** Rynell Fynn

**Height:** 6'1''

**Weight:** 225 lbs

**Age:** 30 years

**Cause of Death:** Exsanguination

**Time of Death:** 2:00 pm on April 22

**Spell Damage:** Cruciatus Curse, Stinging Hex, Incendio, Sectumsempra

Handwritten below this was:

Reason given by Hunters for his death were: 'sexual assault, physical assault, murder, using the Unforgivable Curse on multiple occasions.'

"He was killed earlier today," said Gary, dismayed.

Hermione stared at the name on the file. The name of the murdered man looked familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place it. Where had she heard this name before? She turned to the small, shiny black box on her desk, aimed her wand at it, and said firmly, "Rynell Fynn." The box glowed silver and spat out several pieces of paper with information written neatly on them.

"Did Criminal Info have anything on him?" Gary asked, leaning over her shoulder to read the papers.

"Yeah," Hermione answered, reading much faster than him. "He does have an extensive criminal history, but that doesn't explain…"

"Doesn't explain what?"

"Nothing," she muttered, still racking her brain. Where had she heard his name before?

And interdepartmental memo fluttered through the office and landed on her desk.

_Auror Granger,_

_It has come to our attention that you have requested information about the same criminal twice in one day. Even though one request came from your residence, we would like to direct you to Resource Code 8.9 regarding the policies about paper conservation. Thank you for your compliance._

_Dept. Of Conservation _

Reading over her shoulder, Gary looked at her in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Just as confused as he was, Hermione replied slowly, "It means that I used Crim Info already once today on Fynn. That violates the Department of Conservation's code 8.9, which basically says that you can't print out information on the same criminal more often than once a week. It's to save paper."

"Wait—I'm confused," Gary admitted. "You knew Fynn was dead before you got the file?"

"No, of course not," she snapped. Gary lowered his eyes, looking crushed. "I'm sorry—I'm just as confused as you are. Maybe it's a mistake on Conservation's part."

Part of her memory was missing, she realized. She remembered going talking to Harry and promising him that she would go home. Then she had been taking a shower, but she remembered nothing after that. Plus, why had she looked up information on Rynell Fynn, a man she had never seen before in her life, hours before he appeared, dead, at the Ministry of Magic?

"So what's our next step towards catching the Hunters?" Gary asked tentatively, clearly trying not to set her off again.

"We'll set up a trap in Knockturn Alley," decided Hermione, pushing away the feeling of déjà vu that came when she mentioned Knockturn Alley. "Put out a news bulletin that Macnair is being released for good behavior. We'll set him loose in Knockturn and tell him that he's to kidnap someone. He'll be watched very carefully so he doesn't actually hurt somebody, but the Hunters are sure to go after him. And when they do…"

"We'll arrest them and find out who their leader is!" finished Gary, smiling brightly.

The two of them spent a few minutes writing the order to have Macnair brought to them, ignoring Ractor when he ran by them to leave the room.

"Hermione, can I see you for a second?" asked Harry, approaching them. Ractor bumped into him on his way out and mumbled his apologies.

Hermione followed Harry back to his office.

"What's your plan?" he asked, sitting on the edge of his desk.

Though her eyes narrowed at his mothering, she briefly outlined what she and Gary had been planning.

"That sounds feasible. Along with Gary Saunders, you'll be taking Ractor, Neville, and Shacklebolt," ordered Harry. "I don't want to take the chance of something happening to you. Now, it's late, and you really need to get some rest, so go home. I'll take care of the article in the _Daily Prophet_ as well as the false release order for Macnair."

"Fine," said Hermione, disgruntled about Harry's overprotection. She disapparated from his office without saying goodbye.

Once back in her apartment, she fed Crookshanks and sat down on the sofa to think. It was now fairly evident that her memory had been tampered with. She walked absently to her bookshelf and pulled out a book on Memory. She needed to know if she had been affected with a memory-forgetting spell, potion, or jinx. A counterspell wouldn't be difficult for her to cast, but she had to know the medium of the memory-affecting magic to know which one to use.

Flipping through the book, Hermione came across a page on detecting the presence of a memory altering device on a person. She quickly read through the spell. "Memorius!" she said firmly, aiming her wand at her chest. A silver wisp of cloud flowed around her body before disappearing. After consulting the book, she determined that she had been affected with a potion. Furious at whoever had done this to her, she said carefully, her voice steady, "Finite Memoria Medicamentum!"

A loud whooshing sound filled the room—Crookshanks meowed angrily and fled to the bedroom. Bright golden light swirled in and around Hermione, who closed her eyes tightly against the uncomfortable sensation in her head. It was over in a few seconds, and memories flooded back into her brain. Within a minute, every memory that had been hidden from her was suddenly revealed again.

"Draco Malfoy," she said grimly minutes later, "you're dead."

She took a few moments to arm herself with potions from her stores, and, with a hastily-penned note sent to Harry with her owl, prepared to disapparate. A wave of dizziness swept through her, reminding her suddenly of how very late at night it was. Angry as she was, however, her tiredness would not prevent her from marching to Malfoy Manor that moment.

Once more approaching her potion cabinet, she pulled out a sparking black potion labeled "Invigoration Draught." She downed it in one gulp and sighed as electric tingles of energy raced through her bloodstream, erasing the exhaustion. Invigorated, she disapparated.

Outside the black wrought-iron gates of the ominous-looking Malfoy Manor, she tapped herself on the head with her wand and muttered the Disillusionment Charm. The characteristic coldness trickled through her body. Taking a few breaths to slow her heart and relax her muscles, she slipped between the bars of the gate—her slender body only just fit—and crept towards the Manor itself.

Hermione kept to the shadows as she sprinted from one large bush to the next. She knew from her memories that she had greatly underestimated the Hunters last time, but she wouldn't make that mistake again. She saw two of them sitting guard on the elaborately-carved stone lions that graced the front lawn, but as they were playing Exploding Snap somewhat loudly, she feared no danger from them.

Her note to Harry had simply been an apology that she would be unable to make dinner the next night, as she would be taking a short vacation for the weekend to get away. That way, if she didn't make it back by the next evening, Harry wouldn't freak out too much. It might have been more advisable for her to tell Harry where she was going, but she knew that he would just overreact and send half of the Auror force after her. She was determined to do this by herself.

Her black shirt and black jeans added to the effect of the Disillusionment Charm so that she was practically invisible in the dark night. The front door would be the obvious way to get in, but the guards would obviously notice it opening by itself. Hidden behind a large tree only fifteen feet from the mansion, she contemplated her options.

Hermione eventually decided that, unless she wanted to walk all the way around the house hoping for another entrance, it was time to take some action. She reached quietly into her backpack until she had the vial of potion that she wanted. She took aim carefully, and flung it over towards the two distracted guards. It hit the ground between them and burst into a blinding plume of smoke. Under cover of the smoke, Hermione quickly and quietly opened the front door, closing it immediately behind her.

Unlike the darkness outside, the entryway of the Manor was warmly illuminated by chandeliers of lit candles. Hermione took off the Disillusionment charm, as it was of no more use, and cautiously walked down the first corridor she saw. There were many rooms on either side of the hallway, and she had no way of knowing where Malfoy would be.

"Point me," she whispered, concentrating on Malfoy and his smug face. The wand swiveled and pointed in the opposite direction.

Knowing that she had very little time before someone spotted her, Hermione backtracked swiftly, entering the opposite corridor. A large flight of steps was in her way. She didn't like how exposed she was on the steps, so she ran up them as fast as she could, throwing caution to the winds.

As she walked down the hallway, concentrating on her wand, a door to her left suddenly opened, revealing a sleepy-eyed man. Hermione reacted immediately, stunning the man before he could even reach for his wand. Breathing hard, she dragged him back into the room, which thankfully was his bedroom and empty but for him. She tied him securely to his bedpost and locked the door behind her as she continued down the corridor.

_Bloody hell, do they all sleep at his Manor? _she wondered, her heart pounding as she followed her wand. Finally, the wand ceased to point forward and changed direction to point at a door to the right. Hermione took a deep breath. She cast an Anti-Squeak charm on the hinges, just in case, and slowly pushed the door open.

It was pitch black in the room, so Hermione quietly fumbled through her pack for another of her potions. Once she had swallowed it, her eyes changed to those of a cat. As her pupils dilated, her night vision improved significantly. She closed the door behind her, silently locked it, and placed the Muffliato spell on the door so none of the Hunters would hear anything and come running. Leaving her backpack on the floor so that she wouldn't give away her presence with the clinking of glass vials, she crept to the enormous bed, where she confirmed that it was indeed Malfoy lying on his back.

Malfoy's eyes were closed and he breathed slowly and evenly. His chest rose and fell slightly with his breaths. He slept shirtless, with the bedcovers twisted around him as if he had been tossing and turning.

Now that she was in his room and had him almost at her mercy, Hermione realized that she had no plan. She couldn't apparate with him to the Ministry, as he was lying down and wouldn't be able to turn in the necessary circle with her. Just as she decided to stun him, tie him up, and get backup, Malfoy's eyes opened. He'd sensed someone else's presence in the room and woken up.

His reflexes were lightning fast. Hermione had counted on him going for his wand, in which case she could easily have stunned him first, but Malfoy's hand shot up and grabbed her wand instead, ripping it from her grasp and throwing it across the room. He gripped her tightly by the shoulders and lunged to his other side, pulling Hermione over him and onto the bed. He ended up lying on top of her, pinning her arms over her head with one hand.

Everything had happened so fast that Hermione exhaled shakily, lying still beneath the man who had easily gotten the better of her. She had promised herself that she wouldn't underestimate the Hunters, but the thought hadn't occurred to her that their leader could have some tricks up his sleeve.

"Who are you?" whispered the slow, silky voice into her ear. He ran his free hand up her body. "A woman?" He sounded surprised.

Hermione could see him perfectly, but as the room was still very dark, she knew that he couldn't see her. His eyelids were heavy with sleep, though the bright grey eyes peeking out from under them were anything but. His weight on top of her held her utterly immobile. As she desperately racked her brain for a plausible story that would work at least until she recovered her wand, Malfoy spoke again.

"Did O'Reilley send you?" he asked quietly in her ear, feeling her shiver beneath him. "Ah."

Hermione shivered with a sudden chill, but Malfoy took that as a shiver of confirmation.

"Tell him that I've forgiven his debt; he doesn't need to keep sending me women," he murmured softly. "But for tonight..."

Hermione's mind was thrown into overdrive as she strove to comprehend Malfoy's words. Her thoughts were completely lost when she felt lips over her own, kissing her deeply. She suddenly put together what Malfoy had said. He thought she was a prostitute sent by this man O'Reilley?

Hermione painfully realized that she would have to play along in order to escape. A tiny part of her mind was dismayed at the fact that she was going to have to be intimate with Draco Malfoy for the second time.

Hermione kissed him back. She hated this man, but oh did he know how to kiss. His hot tongue pushed into her mouth and lazily coaxed hers into play. It wasn't long before Draco released her arms. His hands traveled lightly down her body, though her jeans provided an unwelcome barrier. Hermione panicked, breathing heavily, as he touched her.

She debated quickly whether or not to reveal herself to him, but then she remembered his earlier accusation that she was a whore. If he knew who she was, after what she had done so far, then he would surely do as he had threatened before—give her to his men to do with as they pleased. He would never believe she was a virgin after this. Though she really was, she knew nearly everything about how to please a man; it was an unwelcome part of hanging around a bunch of male, sometimes coarse, Aurors.

No, Hermione couldn't reveal her identity. Her only hope was to go through with this until he was no longer on top of her; it was her only chance to run for either her wand or his. Therefore, she made no protest when Malfoy unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs, though she quivered with nervousness. She could feel her traitorous body responding as Malfoy traced circles up and down her bare thigh. Panicking at the unfamiliar feeling and sensations, Hermione tried gently pushing on his chest to get him to give her the upper hand and lie on his back. Before he got the hint, however, Malfoy deftly pushed aside her underwear and found her wet core with two slender fingers.

"Fuck!" Hermione gasped into his mouth, the profanity spilling from her mouth unconsciously. The intensity of the sensation was staggering. Her body rocked forward into his hand. Hermione lost herself utterly in his caress—all thoughts of why she was there completely vanished. Malfoy's fingers alternated between circling her sensitive bud and making shallow thrusts against her wet folds.

Hermione had never done anything more sexual than a kiss with someone, though her relationship with Ron had been drawing closer to something more when it had been so cruelly ended. Malfoy was quickly bringing her towards someplace that she had never been before. He swallowed her cry as she cried out her release, her first orgasm rushing through her with the force of a hurricane.

Satisfied that she was fully ready for him, Malfoy began to pull down his own pants, his erection blindingly obvious in the silken pajamas he wore. Hermione's sex-fogged brain whispered that if she didn't do something now, she might not have a chance to later. She pushed him forcefully onto his back, ignoring the pleas of her body for something that she couldn't even put into words without blushing.

"Mmmm, you want to be in control?" he murmured lazily, his hands behind his head.

Hermione dropped softly to her feet on the ground, grabbing Malfoy's wand off of his nightstand.

"Stupefy!" she cried, watching as the man fell unconscious on the bed. She quickly got dressed and located her own wand, ignoring the shaking of her legs. Her nipples were uncomfortably hard against her t-shirt, but she pushed the arousal aside. She had bigger things to worry about. Tucking Malfoy's wand into her pocket, she slid her backpack back onto her shoulders and approached the bed.

"_Ennervate,"_ she said quietly, turning the lights on in the room. She blinked uncomfortably as her eyes adjusted to the light—the effects of the Cats-Eye potion would last for awhile longer.

Malfoy stirred slowly, opening his eyes and blinking. His face flushed an angry red as he realized who had been leading him on. "Granger, you fucking bitch!" he snarled, lunging for her.

Hermione sidestepped him and he fell to the floor. "Don't move or you'll have so many boils on your body that you won't know where you end and they begin," she said smugly, aiming her wand at him.

Malfoy slowly got to his feet, glancing around the room for possible methods of escape. "That was a dirty trick," he hissed nastily, his face red. "But I'd expect nothing else from a fucking slut. That said, I wonder who taught you how to kiss like that. Couldn't have been Weasley—everybody knows _he_ was a fucking ponce." His eyes glittered as he realized he had hit a nerve; bringing up dead boyfriends tended to do that.

Hermione jammed her wand against Draco's neck hard, making him wince. "Don't ever say a fucking word about him ever again, Malfoy," she hissed menacingly into his ear.

Malfoy laughed in her face, startling her. "So what are you planning on doing now, Granger? You can't apparate out of here, and you certainly can't walk out of here, as you're inside an entire houseful of men who can stop you."

Hermione froze, looking at the man whose proximity to her still caused involuntary an involuntary shiver. "I can disapparate!" she protested, her voice suddenly unsure.

"Only people who have a certain tattoo on their wrists can apparate and disapparate near the Manor," Malfoy said, smirking. He gestured at her to go ahead and try.

Hermione grabbed his arm and spun in a circle, trying to disapparate. "How did you do this?" she cried in frustration.

Malfoy took advantage of her distraction to swing his arm up and knock her wand out of her hand. The wand went flying.

Malfoy and Hermione looked at each other for a split second before diving for it. Malfoy reached it first and held her wand up triumphantly, smirking.

"I'd back up _really _slowly if I was you, Granger," warned Malfoy, picking himself up from the floor.

Hermione's eyes were wide open as she lay on the floor where she had landed. She had somehow managed to land on her back and was looking rather uncomfortable with her backpack twisted underneath her. "Malfoy," she gasped.

"Back up," Malfoy repeated, watching her warily.

"No, seriously," she whispered frantically, staring into his eyes. It suddenly struck Malfoy that she looked frightened for the first time. "We need to run."

"What are you talking about? I'm not falling for that agai—" Before Malfoy could finish his sentence, Hermione had discarded her pack, leapt to her feet, and ran for the door.

"Impedimenta!" he cried, halting her in her tracks.

"The potions in my bag broke and mixed when I fell!" screamed Hermione, struggling to be free of the jinx. "They're going to explode any second!"

She reached for Malfoy's wand in her pocket when everything suddenly erupted into a blaze of green fire. The last thing she saw was her wand glowing in Malfoy's hand as he put up a shield charm in front of himself.


	5. Chapter 5

The pain…when she became conscious to feel the pain…

It was worse than the Cruciatus curse had been during that final battle.

It was worse than holding Ron and watching the light leave his eyes as he passed into the void.

It was worse than anything she had ever felt before in her life.

She screamed and screamed and screamed, but the pain attacked her harshly without end. No relief was given. She could feel her limbs burning from the inside out. Her entire body was twisting and sizzling as fire ran through her veins.

She could hear voices around her, perplexed and panicked, but they did nothing for her. She screamed and begged and pleaded, but the pain dragged on and on, endlessly. Her eyes were tightly closed as she twisted and thrashed.

A cool hand was suddenly placed upon her forehead, but it felt fiery hot to the tortured girl. "Can't you do anything?" snarled a voice that should have been familiar, but in her semiconscious state, nothing penetrated her brain.

Hermione opened her eyes deliriously, trying desperately to do anything to make this end.

"I healed her skin on the outside!" was the cried response. "I don't know what curse is affecting her now! If Mark was here, he might know what to do."

Malfoy was looking down on her, face flushed and eyes fearful. Hermione dimly grasped that she was in a different room of Malfoy Manor and that she was in a comfortable bed that at the moment felt like a pool of acid eating away at her skin.

"Stop!" screamed Hermione, struggling and thrashing in the arms of two men who were trying to hold her down.

There were three other men in the room besides the two holding her. One was Malfoy, one was the man who had healed her skin, and the third looked incredibly familiar, but she couldn't place his face in her memory as she closed her eyes again, falling silent. Pain continued to wrack her body as she convulsed on the bed.

"You need to fucking fix this!" ordered Malfoy, his voice shaking.

"Boss, I'm not a Healer," protested the man, shrinking away from the angered man.

"Then get a fucking Healer!"

"You should take her to St. Mungo's," said a deep voice belonging to one of the strong men who were holding Hermione down so she didn't harm herself.

"That can't happen, you fool! She knows everything about us," snarled a familiar voice that wasn't Malfoy. But the sneering tone was all too familiar to her.

"Ractor," panted Hermione, opening her eyes again to confirm that it was indeed her fellow Auror standing next to her. The Auror whom she had known (and, yes, disliked) for over a year. "Why?" Sweat drenched the girl's face, and her pupils were dilated as her body jerked uncontrollably under the influence of the pain coursing through her body.

"Why am I a member of the Hunters?" Ractor asked amusedly. "This pays much better than the Aurors. Plus, it's advantageous for Malfoy to have an ally on the inside of the Ministry, don't you think?"

"Malfoy, please make it stop," begged Hermione, tears running down her face. It felt like a million angry knives were slitting her defenseless body open. She could concentrate no longer on Hayden Ractor's betrayal.

Draco Malfoy looked extremely uncomfortable. He was torn between two choices: taking her to St. Mungos, which would result in his eventual arrest, as well as the downfall of the Hunters; or hoping that the mixed-up effects of the cursed explosion would just go away on their own.

Or…was there a third option?

"Kidnap a Healer," he said heavily. "I don't care who or how, just do it. Ractor, go back to your house—you can't do anything more here."

There was a loud crack of disapparation.

"Malfoy, it would be better if you just killed her," murmured Ractor, looking mercilessly at the girl lying on the bed. "If you let her go, all that you've worked for will be gone the instant she tells Potter who you are."

"Then it's a good idea I pay so much to keep you around, isn't it?" said Malfoy coldly. "I'm sure you'll find some way to explain this, should I decide to let her go."

Ractor disapparated without another word.

Hermione let out a long, drawn-out scream that made everyone left in the room wince.

"Leave," sighed Malfoy to the others. "Clean up my bedroom. And two of you, stand guard outside."

When the room was empty but for Malfoy and the agonized girl, Malfoy sat on the edge of the bed next to Hermione. Hermione was sobbing as her body continued to convulse with the force of her pain. "Make it stop," she screamed again, tears and sweat pouring down her face. Her entire Auror persona was completely gone and shattered; the pain was reducing her to nothing more than a child. "Please!"

"I would if I could," Malfoy snapped, not knowing what to say to someone in this state.

"Knock me out," she begged.

"I already tried. The Stunning charm won't work for some reason," admitted Malfoy.

"Hit me!" Her words started off as a pleading whisper, but ended up as a tortured shriek when a particularly painful stab came at her heart.

"I'm not going to hit you," said Malfoy, looking at her like he thought she was insane.

"Please!" she screamed, desperately grabbing at him. Her fingers found his arm and grabbed tightly.

Malfoy sighed, but didn't pull away from her. He winced as her grip tightened involuntarily on his arm. "Come here," he murmured, moving onto the bed. He slid one arm around the back of her neck and pushed the other against her throat.

When her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell unconscious, he released his grip, checking to make sure that she was still breathing. Her body still convulsed with the effects of whatever curse was running through her, but her eyes were closed in blissful unconsciousness.

Thirty long minutes passed with no change in Hermione's condition.

"Boss!" cried Marcus, finally coming back into the room with a blindfolded woman held firmly by the wrist. "We found a Healer."

Malfoy glanced towards the door. "Bring her over here," he ordered.

The woman's blindfold was removed and she stood next to the bed, shaking with terror. "What do you want?" she squeaked in fear. She was a thin, mousy woman with stringy brown hair and dull hazel eyes.

"This girl has been hurt," said Malfoy, gesturing towards Hermione. "Heal her, and nothing will happen to you. If you fail—well, I won't go into that now."

The woman paled and looked at Hermione. "What happened to her?"

"She had a backpack with different vials of potions," said Malfoy, sounding bored. "They broke, mixed, and exploded."

"I need to know the exact potions," said the woman timidly.

"Then ask her!" snapped Malfoy.

The woman gingerly tapped Hermione on the shoulder. The girl stirred, a look of discomfort on her face that quickly changed to agony. She opened her eyes, whimpering in pain.

"What sort of potions were there?" asked the Healer.

"Paralyzing Potion, Cats-Eye Potion, First-Aid Potion, and Smoke Shield Potion," Hermione said painstakingly, but she suddenly gasped, clutching her chest. She began to take deep, shuddering breaths as a look of utter terror came onto her red face.

"She's not breathing!" cried the Healer.

"Then make her breathe!" yelled Malfoy, pacing angrily in front of them.

A wheezing sound could be heard coming from Hermione's throat.

The Healer wrung her hands anxiously. "I don't have any of my potions!" she cried. "Her lungs are swelling up and I don't have any anti-inflammatory potions!"

Malfoy made a sound of rage as he grabbed the woman by the arm and looked directly into her eyes. "If you don't figure out a way to save her life, I will personally make sure that you suffer the same fate."

Tears fell from the woman's eyes as she began to mutter spells under her breath, her wand aimed at Hermione.

Finally, just before Hermione passed out, a silvery shadow seeped from the girl's open mouth. It floated into the air and dissipated after a moment. Hermione's breathing steadied and her eyes fluttered closed.

Completely and utterly exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep. She knew that she needed to get the hell out of Malfoy Manor, but her body refused to let her eyes stay open.

"C-Can I go home now?" the Healer stuttered tremulously.

"Take her back and modify her memory," Malfoy commanded Marcus wearily.

The tall black man nodded and dragged the Healer from the room.

"Granger, you dumb bitch," growled Malfoy once the room was empty again. "What am I going to do with you now?" He ran his fingers through his blonde hair impatiently. "I have to admire your persistence, though. If you would just give up trying to arrest me, we wouldn't continue to have these problems."

Hermione let out a small sigh in her sleep, but didn't wake up.

The door opened a crack, and a voice drifted through it. "Uh, Boss?"

"What is it, Marcus?" Malfoy asked wearily, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep.

Marcus stepped inside the room then, and the anxious look on his normally impassive face woke Malfoy up instantly. "We have a problem."

"What?" snapped Malfoy.

"We just received news from Ractor that Harry Potter is on his way here to the Manor!"

Malfoy's face drained of all color. "How long do we have?"

"Ten minutes."

"Execute the evacuation plan!" Malfoy rapped out, snapping into action. Marcus rushed out of the room immediately, wand in hand.

Wasting no time, Malfoy picked up Hermione and slung her over his shoulder. He carried her down three flights of steps, pausing a few times only to issue orders to passing Hunters. He stowed Hermione's limp body in the secret compartment under the drawing room floor, casting a Silencing Charm on her in case she woke up. Just as he had completed the Silencing Charm, he heard a loud banging on the front door of the manor. Malfoy straightened his robes and walked calmly to the front door.

Along the way, he looked around at the house, satisfied that he didn't see any of his men still in the house. Before he opened the door, he saw Marcus standing a few feet away, ready to assist him should anything go wrong.

Malfoy opened the door. A fist sailed through the air and connected hard with his face.

Malfoy stumbled backwards into his house. He threw a hand out in warning to stop Marcus from attacking or showing himself.

"Where is she?" growled Harry Potter, taking a step into the manor. He didn't notice the tall black man in the shadowy corner to the right.

"Where is who?" hissed Malfoy, gingerly wiping the blood from his split lip. He saw with relief that Potter was alone.

"Don't play stupid, Malfoy," said Harry, advancing on Malfoy. He shoved Malfoy hard against the closest wall. "I've had a tail on Hermione for the past 24 hours and she was last seen entering _your_ manor."

Malfoy lashed out with his fist and caught Harry in the jaw. Using the distraction to his advantage, Malfoy pulled away and straightened his shirt. "What would you do if I were to report you to the Ministry for assault, Potter? How dare you come into my house and attack me with no provocation? Get out of here this instant!"

One room away, two feet under the floor, Hermione woke up. Darkness surrounded her.

"Where am I?" she murmured, or tried to. No sound came out of her mouth. _I've been Silenced!_ she thought angrily. She searched her pockets for her wand, but came up empty.

Shifting to feel out her surroundings, Hermione winced as she felt soreness in every muscle from the cursed explosion. A quick examination revealed that she was in a small compartment lined in smooth wood. There was no way to open the trapdoor from her side. Suddenly, she realized that she was able to hear raised voices in the other room and listened carefully.

"One more step, Potter. I'm warning you—take just one more step into my house," snarled Malfoy's voice.

Then came an extremely familiar voice—Harry's! "As Head Auror, Malfoy, I am completely within my bounds to arrest you right now for attacking a member of law enforcement," Harry threatened him. "If you tell me what Hermione was doing here, I'll let you off with a warning." Harry's voice suddenly changed to a softer, more vulnerable tone. "I need to find her."

"I haven't seen her," Malfoy replied coldly, not missing a beat.

"Accio Hermione's wand!" Harry yelled loudly.

There was a loud ripping sound. "Fuck, Potter! This shirt was more expensive than your bloody house!"

"What are you doing with Hermione's wand?" Harry asked, his voice deadly and quiet.

There was a pause before Malfoy replied, "I found it on my front lawn."

"You're under arrest, Malfoy," Harry stated, his voice shaking with anger. "Expelliarmus! Incarcerous! Hey!" Harry suddenly said in surprise. "Who are you? Back up or you'll be arrested as well."

"Marcus, back off," snapped Malfoy, sounding pained.

"Hermione!" bellowed Harry.

Hermione realized that this was her only change to be revealed. She lay on her back and kicked upward at the drawing room floor as hard as she could, trying to draw attention to herself. Nothing but a small, muffled tap could be heard, as there was something soft attached to the top, probably for this very reason. She heard the front door slam, and her heart sank.

Long minutes passed before she heard footsteps above the drawing room. Moments later, the secret compartment opened and light flooded in, blinding Hermione. A hand reached down and dragged her out of the compartment.

"Finite," said a deep voice that Hermione recognized as Marcus's. The Silencing Charm was removed.

"Let me go, you bastard!" she screamed, jerking against his hard grip.

"If you think for one second that I'm going to let you escape again, then you're foolish as well as reckless," Marcus sneered. "Malfoy's the leader, but I'm his second in command."

Hermione went pale. "Marcus, you could trade me to Harry for Malfoy," she said, trying not to let her desperation show. "Harry's only going to interrogate Malfoy because he wants me back. He has no idea that he's part of the Hunters!"

"True, true," said Marcus, pulling her over to the leather sofa against the wall, placing his wand behind her on the window ledge. "But before I do that, it seems a little Obliviation is in order." 

Marcus pushed Hermione down onto the sofa and straddled her, trapping her between his body and the sofa.

"Malfoy said that you're not allowed to touch me," Hermione snarled, shoving ineffectually against Marcus's strong muscles.

"Don't flatter yourself, witch," Marcus said, amused. "Just making sure you don't have any other potions on you."

"Listen, Marcus," Hermione said quickly, playing for time as she eased her hands behind her, "if you leave me alone and don't hurt me, I promise I'll leave you out of whatever Malfoy's gotten himself into. I won't mention your name to Harry or anything. You'll be able to escape unscathed. Just take me to the Ministry and I'll forget everything about you. This is your way out."

"Don't pretend to have the upper hand here, little Auror," Marcus laughed. "If I wanted to, I could do whatever I wanted and then Obliviate you after."

"How are you going to do that with no wand?" she growled angrily, her fingers finally closing on Marcus's wand. "Stupefy!"

Marcus slid backwards and landed hard on the floor. 

Hermione got to her feet, grinning. "Finally, _something_ went right," she muttered. Knowing that the other Hunters could return any moment, she hefted the unconscious man into the air and tried to disapparate, a clear picture of Harry's office in her mind. Nothing happened, and Hermione remembered what Malfoy had told her about a certain tattoo that she had to have in order to apparate or disapparate in the Manor. She laboriously dragged Marcus into the front yard, where she finally managed to disapparate.


	6. Chapter 6

"Let's see what you have to say once I get this into your foul, lying mouth," said Harry angrily, forcing a vial of clear potion towards Malfoy's mouth while Malfoy fought against the cords binding him to a chair.

CRACK!

"Hermione!" Harry cried in shock, dropping the vial—it shattered on the wood floor. His best friend appeared in the center of his office supporting an enormous, unconscious black man on her shoulder and looking positively exhausted.

"He's a Hunter," she gasped out, dropping Marcus's unconscious body onto the floor of Harry's office.

"Ractor, Gary—in my office for Criminal Transport!" Harry yelled out the door.

"No!" Hermione cried as she heard Ractor's name, slumping into a chair as she tried to ignore the pounding pain in her joints.

Gary bounced into the office, followed closely by a sauntering Hayden Ractor. Ractor's eyes widened when he saw Malfoy bound to a chair and Marcus unconscious on the floor.

"You traitor!" Hermione hissed, aiming Marcus's wand at Ractor. Ractor threw up his hands, an incredulous expression on his face. "He's a traitor, Harry! He's been working for the Hunters—that's why they've been able to avoid capture. Ractor tells them everything."

"Mr. Potter, she's clearly undergone some emotional trauma," Ractor said, his hands still in the air.

Harry looked from the harried young woman to the calm and collected Hayden Ractor.

Malfoy had stayed silent throughout this entire exchange and seemed content to simply watch for the moment.

"Hermione, put the wand down," Harry said gently, stepping between Hermione and Ractor.

Hermione's wand arm trembled as she aimed it at Ractor, who was smirking behind Harry's back. "Harry, he's one of them. So is that man on the floor—his name's Marcus," she said pleadingly. "You have to believe me. They all live in Malfoy Manor. Malfoy's their leader!"

Malfoy flinched—his name had come up at last. "As if I would allow a band of criminals to live in my family's home," he snarled uneasily.

"We'll send Aurors to his house to check it out, all right? If he's a Hunter, we'll find out, I promise," Harry said reassuringly, pulling the wand out of her hand. "Hayden, take Neville and go to Malfoy Manor. Gary, take this scum to questioning." Harry nudged Marcus with his foot.

"In the office—the green office—there are file cabinets. There has to be records of their kills," Hermione told Harry.

Ractor nodded and left the room immediately. Gary levitated Marcus into the air and walked out of the room, giving Hermione a pitying glance.

"You have some explaining to do, Malfoy," Harry said quietly, handing Hermione her own wand, which he had recovered from Malfoy earlier.

"Potter, is it my fault if she comes on to me? She keeps appearing at my house, wanting to talk to me about 'Auror business,' which is just an excuse for her to get inside to harass me. She has some kind of obsession with me—thinks that I know who the Hunters are," Malfoy explained calmly, getting some of his ideas from the tricks that Rynell Fynn had tried to use on him. "She's finally cracked under all the pressure from you and losing Weasley. She's obsessed with me."

"Obsessed with you?" shrieked Hermione, rising from her chair angrily. "You lying monster! I'll kill you!"

Harry caught Hermione as she rushed towards Malfoy and held her close, silencing her tears with murmured reassurances.

"It's sad, Potter, it really is," Malfoy said pityingly. He kept his voice calm and resisted the urge to nolt. "Today I had to take away her wand just to keep her from hurting herself. She snuck into my house tonight while I was sleeping and started ranting about how she'd finally found proof that I'm a Hunter. I had to call my friend Marcus to help me keep her at bay. She was trying to kill me! I would have told you this earlier, but I was trying to keep her reputation from being tarnished. Truth be told, I pity her."

"You've hated the both of us since Hogwarts years, Malfoy," Harry spat. "Why should I believe you now?"

"Because what I'm saying is something that you've thought yourself," Malfoy replied, subtly playing on Harry's fears. The-Boy-Who-Lived was as transparent as a bloody window. "You've delayed giving her a real assignment because you were afraid that she wasn't emotionally strong enough yet to handle going after hardened criminals. Losing Weasley must have been tragic for her. I assume that she chose me to go after in a desperate attempt to get your approval. I must have been the perfect choice, seeing as she's hated me ever since you two knew me."

"Harry, he's lying," whispered Hermione, tears flowing down her face at the mention of Ron. "He's the leader of the Hunters—he pays Ractor for information! I came to his house to arrest him, but he kidnapped me instead. You have to believe me!"

Harry looked down at her, his eyes full of sadness. "I do believe you, Hermione. Let's just see what happens when Ractor and Neville get back."

As if summoned by their words, there were two loud cracks and the two Aurors in question appeared in the room.

"Harry," Neville said confusedly, "we didn't find anything in Malfoy Manor. The place doesn't even look as if anyone's lived there but Malfoy. I—I'm sorry, Hermione."

Ractor said nothing, an apologetic look on his face. Harry looked at Hermione, his green eyes troubled.

"Without any proof, I can't arrest him," he said softly. "My last bottle of Veritaserum broke when you apparated in here. Hermione…I have to let him go."

Hermione pulled away from Harry's arms and sank into a chair, despondent.

"Thank you, Neville, Ractor," Harry said, his words a clear dismissal. The two of them left the room quickly. A split second after Harry released Malfoy from his bonds, Gary burst into the office.

"Mr. Potter!" he gasped, his face red. "The Hunters struck again! They captured Bellatrix Lestrange!"

"Bellatrix Lestrange?" Harry breathed, his face turning white. "Thank you for letting me know. Malfoy, you're free to go. I apologize for the inconvenience."

Malfoy sneered and straightened his jacket, deliberately taking his time so that he could hear how his plan had worked out.

Gary stood, breathing hard, looking to Harry for guidance.

"Secure her immediately," Harry ordered, his eyes alight with excitement.

"Harry—"

"Hermione, I've been looking for her for years!" Harry interrupted her, striving visibly to keep his voice calm when all he wanted to do was interrogate and sentence the woman who had killed his godfather. "Look," he said, his voice softening, "I know this has been hard on you, but stunts like what you just pulled can get you fired! As it is, I'll have to put you on probation—you can't go around accusing people of major crimes with no proof. We know for a fact that they have their leader approve of each arrest just prior to bringing them in! Since Malfoy was here, that rules him out."

"Harry," Hermione whispered, unable to believe what she was hearing.

"You're officially on fully paid medical leave, Hermione," declared Harry, not looking Hermione in the eye. "Use it to get yourself back on track. Your job will still be here for you."

Forgotten by the Aurors, Malfoy realized that this was the best thing that could possibly have happened to him—Potter was so concerned about Granger's sanity that he was taking her off the job!

"Being an Auror is all I have," Hermione said softly, refusing to let herself cry.

"I'm sorry," muttered Harry. He was anxiously shifting his weight from one foot to the other; there was nothing he wanted more than to officially arrest Bellatrix Lestrange. "I have—I have to go do my job." He swept out of the room, Gary on his heels.

"Looks like no one believes you now, Granger," hissed Malfoy, a smirk on his face now that the room was empty. "I've been keeping my dear auntie in the dungeons for just this sort of occasion."

"Malfoy," said Hermione, her voice deadly, "Auror or not, I _will_ come after you. You'll regret doing this to me."

Malfoy winked. "Oh, I know you'll _come_ for me. I believe we already established that."

Hermione lunged at him, fists raised, but Malfoy ducked her blows and caught her wrists. Holding her struggling body still, he murmured into her ear, "Don't think for a second that I forgot about last night." He laughed quietly as he felt her shiver. Was she shivering with lust, revulsion, or something else? "The very next time I find you in my house, I promise that you won't leave until we're _both_ satisfied." He released her, smirking, and strode gracefully from the room.

Hermione let out a shuddering gasp once he left and fell into a chair. She had failed so completely at the assignment that Harry had given—and failure was _not_ something that Hermione Granger was used to. So Harry thought that she wasn't fit to be an Auror? So Malfoy was untouchable by the Aurors? Well, since it seemed that she wasn't an Auror anymore, perhaps this was what she needed in order to bring down Draco Malfoy.

As she threw Floo Powder into the fireplace in Harry's office, Hermione realized that she had just given Malfoy a major advantage in their battle. Now, nothing she said about him would be believed by Harry or the Ministry of Magic—therefore, he had no reason to fear her. From the sound of what he had said to her earlier, he was now regarding her as a game rather than a threat. No matter—she would soon change his mind.

After completing the dizzying journey home, Hermione curled up in her bed. She fell almost immediately into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Many hours later, Hermione woke up and felt better than she had in the past week. _It's amazing what a good night's sleep will do for you!_ she thought. Then, with all the force of a speeding train, memories of the day before crashed into her head. She groaned and fell back into bed, closing her eyes tightly.

The knowledge that she was no longer an Auror was crushing; after Ron had died, the only way that Hermione had survived was by pouring her life and energy into becoming an Auror. Once she had received her Auror shield, she had focused her considerable talents on every task that had been put in front of here. As a result, her research and reports on criminals were the best in the country; a great number of criminals had been located and arrested due to her efforts.

Now that all that had been taken from her, Hermione realized that she only had one choice: take down Malfoy, leader of the Hunters. But she couldn't just take him down—he had made her realize that she needed proof of his involvement. Malfoy was very clever and talented at covering his tracks—Hermione had to admit that.

A tapping on the window distracted her. A tawny owl fluttered outside, a letter tied to its leg. Hermione opened the window and detached the letter, but the owl perched on her shoulder and refused to budge.

"You must have been told to wait for a reply," she murmured, stroking its beak. She opened the letter, scanning it quickly, her eyes darkening with anger as she realized what it was: a formal declaration of her leave of absence, requesting that she return her badge with the owl until she should return. The letter also stated politely that she was not to return for at least two weeks, and it must be with the approval of a wizarding psychological Healer. "Harry, you bloody git!" she snarled, snatching her badge off the nightstand and chucking it in an envelope. "Here."

The owl ruffled her feathers at her rudeness, but it picked up the envelope and flew swiftly through the window.

Her hands shaking with anger, Hermione poured herself a cup of tea to relax. Four cups of tea and one bathroom break later, she decided to go to Diagon Alley for a bit to cheer herself up. Maybe she would visit Fred and George's joke shop—that was always good for a laugh or two.

And that's how Hermione found herself staring at her reflection in a mirror an hour later, marveling at the fact that she had whiskers and pointy cat ears. "Um, this reminds me of certain activities from second year that shall remain nameless," she laughed, turning to face a beaming George Weasley.

"Yeah, but they'll be hits at Halloween once we get the effects to last longer," chortled George, handing her a pill to swallow.

Hermione's face quickly turned back to normal. "You guys have got to be rolling in the Galleons," she marveled, looking around the packed joke shop. She waved across the shop at Fred, who was showing a small girl the new colors of Pygmy Puffs.

"Hermione, we aren't in this for the money—we're just trying to make the world a better place, one prank at a time," replied George, a huge grin on his face. His face suddenly took on a note of seriousness. "I heard about yesterday. I just want you to know that Fred and I are here for you if you need help or someone to talk to."

"Did Harry tell you?" she sighed, all of her enjoyment gone.

"No," George said uneasily.

"Who then?"

"It was in the Daily Prophet…"

"Show me," Hermione ordered, her lips tight.

"You probably don't want to—"

"Now, George!" George led Hermione through the shop into the back room and up the stairs to the cluttered flat above. A folded Daily Prophet lay next to a sink overflowing with dirty dishes.

"Er…let me know if you need anything," George said quickly, disappearing back down the stairs.

With some trepidation, Hermione glanced at the front cover, which sported a picture of her threatening Ractor with her wand in Harry's office. "Who took that picture?" she whispered to herself, her heart sinking.

**Auror Prodigy Unhinged **

Tensions ran high yesterday in the office of celebrated Head Auror Harry Potter, when Auror Hermione Granger, a lifelong friend of Potter, accused a fellow Auror and prominent wizard of outrageous crimes against the wizarding world in a very unorthodox way. Granger threatened both an Auror and a nameless citizen with a wand while screaming hysterically in the Ministry of Magic Head Auror Office. "I truly feared for my life," says Hayden Ractor, an Auror with 15 years of Ministry of Magic experience under his belt. "She's desperate for Mr. Potter's approval so that she can get a pay rise." Sources also say that Granger has been "cocky to the point of excess" when it comes to arresting criminals. "She's always been a little out of it since her friend Weasley died a few years back," Ractor explains. "No one knows how she has made such a name for herself in the Ministry of Magic, but many suspect that it has more to do with her fame as Potter's friend than her actual ability." Granger has been suspended pending a psychiatric evaluation and it remains to be seen whether **[continued on page 6]**

Hermione dropped the paper, her mouth open in shock and disbelief.

"Hermione, are you—"

Hermione pushed past George on the steps and threaded her way through the crowded joke shop until she reached the door. She stood outside the store, panting, her heart pounding fast. How could they have printed that rubbish about her? How could Harry have not stopped Ractor from talking to the Daily Prophet about her? Once she dealt with Malfoy, Ractor was definitely going to be next on her list.

"That's her," she heard a young woman whisper, nudging her husband as Hermione walked past them. Hermione pretended not to notice, though tears pricked her eyes. Rather than walk all the way back through Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron, she decided to take a shortcut through Knockturn Alley.

Knockturn Alley was nowhere near as crowded as Diagon Alley, and no one there appeared to pay her much attention. Hermione walked quietly past dingy storefronts and creepy people, fearing no one. At least, not until she got lost. The winding and twisting alleys eventually got the better of her, and Hermione found herself standing at a completely deserted dead end.

"When did this get here?" she muttered irritably, turning around to go back the way she had come.

"Lost?" asked a soft male voice from off to her left.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione jumped in surprise. The voice belonged to a brown-haired man with an Irish lilt to his voice. He was dirty and unshaven, and his clothes hadn't been washed in days, if the smell was anything to go by. "No, I'm fine, thank you," she said firmly, walking past him. She had learned long ago that not showing fear deterred many miscreants who were seeking easy prey.

"Are you sure?" he asked menacingly, pulling out a wickedly curved dagger and grabbing her arm.

Hermione plunged her hand into her robes, but realized with an ice cold rush that she had left her wand at home, using Floo Powder as her means of travel for the day. "What do you want?" she asked loudly, pushing aside her terror.

"A brunette for my collection," replied the man, a lopsided leer on his face but a dead, sharklike look in his eyes. "I'll just take your scalp, my dear. But first, I'll need you to relax."

There was no other preamble. Before Hermione could do so much as cry for help, the dagger plunged deep into her belly. It was then that the scream ripped from her lips, slightly muffled by the thick, smoky air of the alley. Hermione's knees gave out and she fell to the ground, her head held up by the man's strong grip on her hair. Pain flared up in her stomach as blood began to flow thickly from the deep wound in her abdomen. The man jerked the dagger out of her body and wiped it on the dirty ground. Hermione didn't have the strength to scream again as a sweeping numbness swept through her legs and stomach.

"Now," muttered the man thoughtfully, "I'll start from the front this time—perhaps more of the skin will remain intact."

Hermione felt the knife blade gently touch her forehead and let out a soft cry of despair, but it was barely louder than the meow of a kitten.

"Accio!" snarled a different voice, and Hermione dimly watched as the knife flew away from her body and fell with a thud on the ground yards away.

The man who had stabbed her was forcefully pulled off of her and thrown against a wall, his body hitting with a dull thud.

Whoever had rescued her pulled out his wand and began torturing the man with his wand using the Cruciatus Curse.

"Stop," Hermione whispered, her voice much too faint for them to hear. "It's illegal…"

Thirty seconds later, the tortured man was finally released from the curse and lay still and unmoving on the ground.

"Take him to the Ministry—we don't know his name but he's the serial killer known as 'The Scalper,'" said the man who had saved her life. He was talking to another man who had accompanied him there. He turned to face Hermione, and she realized with a shock that it was Draco Malfoy who had come to her aid. As the other man collected the Scalper and disapparated, Malfoy approached her.

"Don't touch me," she breathed. His shiny leather boots were inches away from her face. She tried to move away from him, but her body didn't seem to be obeying her.

Malfoy said nothing in reply, and Hermione wondered blithely if he'd even heard her.

Everything was all confused now in her head anyway…her head was spinning, her eyes were unfocused…her tummy hurt so very badly…and what was all that red stuff on the ground all around her? Surely it couldn't all be her blood? There was way too much of it…where was Harry? And Ron? They should be with her….it hurts…

A soothing, songlike incantation filled the air, and Hermione relaxed instinctively against the ground at hearing it. Perhaps this was what it felt like to die…was she hearing angels? And then she saw that Malfoy was kneeling beside her...his lips were moving at the same time as the incantation. Pain wound its way through her stomach as the edges of the deep gash began to slowly knit together.

"It hurts," she whimpered as the worst pain she had known in her life shot through her stomach. Her fingers found Malfoy's arm and gripped tightly.

Malfoy continued the incantation, his wand tip circling the wound in her stomach. The agonizing pain continued for long minutes, during which pitiful cries of pain escaped the girl's lips. The pain finally loosened its hold on her, and there was just a long scar on her stomach where before the gaping wound had been.

"Try to stand," Malfoy told her, getting to his feet and dusting off his robes.

Hermione managed to get into a sitting position, but even that proved to be too much for her and she passed out on the ground. Seconds later, her eyes opened and she was looking directly into Malfoy's eyes.

"You've lost too much blood," he stated, picking her up effortlessly in his arms.

Hermione tried to reply, but her body began shaking involuntarily with chills, though it was a warm summer's night.

"I'm taking you to St. Mungo's," Malfoy said, looking uncharacteristically concerned. "You're either in shock or you have some sort of infection."

"Not Mungo's," she gasped out, struggling to stay conscious. Her stomach churned most unpleasantly. "The _Prophet_ will—have a field day—please."

"I can't take you there anyway—it makes it very obvious that I'm a Hunter then, since the Hunters just dropped the scum off at the Ministry. But Granger, I'm not going to your shithole of a flat," growled Malfoy, his voice sounding much too far away.

Blackness swirled in front of her vision, and with a soft gasp, Hermione's eyes closed completely.

Hermione woke up the moment she became conscious enough to notice that there was a hand on her forehead. With a startled gasp, she opened her eyes.

"Relax, you're all right," the owner of the hand said gently, smiling down at her. "I'm Mark Williams, a Healer."

"Where am I?" Hermione said thickly. "How long have I been unconscious. Am I all right?" She realized with embarrassment that she wasn't wearing a shirt—rather, bandages were wrapped tightly around her stomach and she was covered by a blanket as she lay on a very comfortable sofa. Sunlight streaming through the large bay windows bathed her in warmth.

Mark held up a hand, his hazel eyes twinkling merrily. His short, light-brown hair framed a face that was handsome and reassuring. He looked to be in his late twenties. "You're in Malfoy Manor, in the sunroom. You've been unconscious for about two days, and you are perfectly all right. The bandages need to stay on for the rest of the day, as they are imbued with an anti-scarring serum that should make your stomach look good as new." He smiled kindly. "Any other questions?"

"If you're here, then doesn't that make you…" Hermione shut her mouth quickly, realizing that if she wanted to become respected again as an Auror, she couldn't ask everyone she met if they were Hunters. Just because someone entered the Malfoy house did not necessarily mean that they were a Hunter.

"A Hunter, yes," replied the man easily.

Hermione inhaled sharply.

"Don't worry—not all of us are necessarily evil," Mark said quickly, seeing her distress. "I was away at the time of your last visit to Malfoy Manor, which is why the others were in such frenzy when you were affected by the cursed explosion."

When Hermione didn't look convinced, he continued, "You are not a prisoner here, and Draco has assured me that you can't arrest us, so you have no reason to fear me."

"Er…" Hermione paused, wondering if she should ask him a question that had just popped into her head.

"Yes?"

"Why do you call him 'Draco'? Most of the other Hunters I've seen have called him 'Boss' or 'Mr. Malfoy,' and I just wondered why you didn't…"

"Draco and I have known each other for many years," Mark said, chuckling darkly.

"Where is he?" Hermione asked uneasily.

"In his office—would you like me to get him for you?"

"No, thank you," replied Hermione quickly. "If I'm not a prisoner, then when can I leave?"

Mark looked thoughtfully at the clock and then asked, "If I may check the progress of your healing, Miss Granger?"

"It's Hermione—and yes, you can," she answered, nervously biting her lip.

Mark pulled back the blanket, exposing Hermione's bare chest. He looked at her in the most clinical of ways, lifting up the bandage and probing her stomach with gentle fingers. Moments passed and he replaced the bandages and the blanket. When he sat down on the chair next to her once more, he told her that she would be able to leave in a few hours, once the Blood-Replenishing Potions had time to fully work through her body. He gave her a shirt to put on—it was a man's shirt and too large for her, but it did the job.

"But I need to leave now," she said impatiently. "You don't understand how bad it is for me to be here!"

"Why is it bad for you to be here?" asked Mark quizzically. "Because for some reason you have an irresistible cast to you that makes bad men have bad thoughts? Or because you simply don't like Draco?"

Hermione shivered nervously at his comment about her body and replied harshly, "Because Malfoy ruined my job, my reputation, and my life—being here isn't going to look good when I finally am able to arrest him!"

"You do realize that he just _saved _your life as well, don't you, Hermione?" Mark said, looking at her searchingly.

"So he does one good deed, and that's just supposed to completely redeem him of a lifetime of criminal behavior? Not by a long shot!" she exclaimed, wincing as a twinge of pain went through her ribs.

Mark sighed and felt her forehead one more time. "The Hunters do good work. It's thanks to us that The Scalper is finally behind bars," he told her. "He's been evading the Aurors for months, and has a death toll of sixteen and a half women to his name. We're counting you as a half," he said, smiling as he invited her to share the joke.

Hermione didn't smile back, too preoccupied with her thoughts about Malfoy. She did find herself beginning to like Mark—it was hard not to like someone who was perpetually smiling.

The room lapsed into silence, and Hermione felt her eyes begin to droop under the effects of whatever painkilling potions she was on.

"How is she?" said a smooth voice. Draco Malfoy walked into the room, and Hermione immediately tensed.

"I'm fine," she growled, refusing to look at the tall, lithe man who had just walked into the room.

"You're welcome for saving your life," Malfoy sneered in reply, his grey eyes snapping with anger.

"I wouldn't have needed saving if you hadn't ruined my fucking life!" Hermione shoved back the blankets covering her and sat up, swallowing hard as dizziness swept through her body. "Let me go," she snarled.

"You're perfectly bloody free to go, Granger," Malfoy said haughtily, gesturing towards the exit to the room. "Don't let me stand in your way of getting the hell out of my house."

Hermione stood up and took a step towards the door. Pins and needles coursed through her body and she found herself being sucked into a grey abyss of unconsciousness.

Hands caught her carefully and gently cradled her against a chest.

"You're a very complex man," Hermione dimly heard Mark say—his voice was too far away for him to be the one who was holding her. Her eyes remained closed—she lacked the strength to even open them.

"She's not so bad when she not talking," Malfoy muttered, his chest rumbling against her cheek as he spoke. "Her bloody persistence will be my downfall…"

Hermione felt herself being carried away, out of the sunny room and down a hallway.

"That's what I've been saying… Where are you taking her?"

"A sofa is no place for a sickbed," replied Malfoy quickly. "Oh, and 'the irresistible cast that makes bad men have bad thoughts'? That was a particularly nice touch."

"She truly is quite an attractive girl. And besides, I've got to have a little fun once in a while," laughed Mark, sounding like he was walking right next to them. "It sounds better than, 'some Hunters are disgusting perverts,' doesn't it?"

"Not as many of them now—Fynn's dead and Marcus is in Azkaban."

"I was only gone for two weeks! Much has happened here… I must make sure not to leave again."

Hermione found herself being placed in an extremely comfortable bed that felt as if it was made of feathers. Covers were placed over her body.

"Your room, Draco?" Mark asked, his voice suspicious. "They did do a good job at cleaning up the mess from the explosion."

"She'll be safest here."

"I can't help but think that—"

"I know what you're going to say," interrupted Malfoy. "And you're quite wrong."

The combination of painkillers and the comfortable bed dragged Hermione into sleep again.

Hours later, she woke up in a dark room. It took a few moments for her to remember where she was, but once she did, she was up in a flash. She was in Malfoy's room. For some reason, the room was completely dark, though she didn't think that she had been asleep for that long. Getting out of bed, she quietly walked to where she remembered the door was and pulled on the handle.

"Locked," she hissed. "Of course."

She walked back across the room and felt along the walls until she felt the edge of a window. In one movement, she pulled the curtains away from the window, sighing with relief as light from the moon illuminated the room somewhat.

In the corner, Hermione noticed with shock that someone was sitting on a chair, his head bent onto his chest as he slept. That corner was most unluckily not lit by the moonlight, so she was completely blind as to his identity. It could be Mark, Malfoy, or some other pervert who had snuck into the room like last time she had been held prisoner.

"Who's there?" she called, walking near the chair warily. She readied her body to attack.

The man's head lifted, but all Hermione could see was his silhouette as he stood. He closed the distance between the two of them. As he got close, she backed away from him.

"You really should know by now that I'm not going to hurt you," the man said irritably, halting his movements.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice tinged with anger and surprise.

"It's my room, after all," Malfoy replied crossly, stepping into the light.

"So? Why were you sitting in the corner like a creep?" Hermione was tired, angry, and simply wanted to be done with the entire situation.

"To prevent any unwanted visitors," he said vaguely, "seeing as my men can't keep their hands off of you."

"If they don't follow your orders then you're not a very good leader," Hermione criticized.

Malfoy threw his hands up in frustration and stormed over to her. "You're impossible to talk to," he growled, stalking towards her until she had backed up against the wall.

"You're an evil person who deserves to rot in Azkaban," Hermione insisted, disconcerted by his nearness.

"Would an evil person have saved your life?" Malfoy asked her quietly, staring her in the eyes. "Would an evil person have taken care of you in his own house until you're well enough to leave?"

"You only saved me from that monster because you're sadistic and wanted to torture someone," said Hermione, though she began to doubt her thoughts very slightly. "And you didn't take care of me—Mark did!"

"Mark?" Malfoy laughed unhappily. "Ha!—I healed your bloody fucking wounds in the alley, you ungrateful little witch!" he yelled, all traces of amusement gone. "You'd have died if it hadn't been for me!"

"You ruined my reputation, my career, and my life, Malfoy!" Hermione screamed, her rage matching his. "It would have been better if you hadn't saved me at all! My whole life revolves around arresting you, and now you're making things even more complicated by saving my damn life!"

Overcome with anger, Hermione pulled back her hand and slapped Malfoy hard in the face. He stared at her for a long moment as his right cheek slowly turned red.

"Don't _ever_ do that again," he growled, his voice low and deadly as he grabbed her wrists in his hands and pinned them above her head.

Hermione let out a startled gasp and her breathing quickened as Malfoy leaned close to her—his body was actually touching hers as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You have no idea what you're getting into, Granger," he whispered, his hot breath on her ear strangely stimulating.

Hermione inhaled sharply, her own anger forgotten in the shock of their position.

"This is more dangerous than you could ever imagine," he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper.

She froze. "What do you—"

Malfoy interrupted her, softly growling, "There are some even more invested in the Hunters than I am, who will do anything to keep them in business. They've killed before to protect our secret, and will do so again if they believe you're a threat."

"Are you threatening me?" Hermione cried, shoving angrily at the body of the man who was holding her against the wall.

Malfoy let her go instantly. His serious demeanor was gone, to be replaced with one of frustration. "Believe what you want, Granger—I've warned you."

Hermione gave Malfoy the darkest of glares. "I'm leaving," she said haughtily, stalking towards the door. "Unlock this immediately."

Malfoy waved his wand, a frown on his face, and watched the young woman leave his room without another glance behind her.

He followed her more leisurely, his wand out as he glanced from side to side as he walked down the long hallway of the West Wing of his house. He watched the witch in front of him jump to the side as a door to her left opened.

Hermione was quite aware that Malfoy was following her as she tried to navigate the enormously large mansion. A door to her side suddenly opened as she walked past, and her instinct was to shy away. However, she noticed with relief that it was only Mark. Wearing expensive-looking black robes with a silver pin, he looked very dashing.

"Feeling better, Hermione?" Mark asked, smiling at her. He closed the door swiftly behind him, looking only mildly surprised to see her there.

"Much better, thank you," she said warmly, smiling back.

"I'll escort her the rest of the way, Draco," Mark called back to Malfoy, who immediately sneered.

"As this is my house, I'll be quite able to do it on my own," replied the handsome Slytherin, catching up with them in moments. "Come on, Granger."

Hermione glanced from Malfoy's contemptuous face to Mark's slowly darkening face and said hastily, "Mark can show me," bestowing a glowing smile on him.

"The lady has chosen," Mark said gallantly, the ominous expression on his face disappearing almost immediately. He offered Hermione his arm, and she took it after just an ounce of hesitation.

As Mark led her towards a tall, polished staircase, Hermione glanced back just once to give Malfoy a triumphant smirk. Her expression faltered. Malfoy stood motionless in the hallway, disquiet and anger turning his face into a mask of unease.

"Have you thought any more about what I said yesterday?" Mark asked, drawing Hermione's attention back to him as he walked down the stairs at her side.

"Which part?" Hermione asked blankly, still distracted by Malfoy's inexplicable expression—he had no reason to be angry that Mark was showing her the way out of the manor unless he was jealous or something…

"About Malfoy—the Hunters," clarified the man, smiling gently.

"Oh—not really. I still think Malfoy's committed too many crimes to stay in society," she explained as they walked down a long hallway, the end of which led to the entranceway. "I mean, he's _murdered_ people! Just because they're criminals doesn't mean that they deserve to die. We have the justice system for a reason."

"You're a fascinating woman," mused Mark, turning to look intently at her. "I'd love to have more conversations with you in the future—perhaps in a friendlier setting, however."

Hermione laughed. "I would, too," she said thoughtfully, realizing that she could use a friend on the inside of the Hunters' crime syndicate.

"Excellent! And here is where we must part, my dear Hermione," Mark said regretfully, opening the front door for her.

"Thank you for healing me," she said gratefully, blushing as he drew her hand to his lips and kissed it.

"You're quite welcome."

Hermione walked down the long pathway until she had cleared the gates of Malfoy Mansion. She realized with a tinge of irritation that she was now in Wiltshire—very far from her apartment in London—with no wand or any means to get home. It was also the middle of the night—however, the moon was bright and the night was calm, so she began walking. It took her only minutes of resolute walking towards a nearby city before an eagle owl fluttered down and dropped a package on her head before immediately flying away.

Hermione opened it warily, but it simply contained her wand and a scrap of parchment, written in a perfect, flowing script.

_Watch your back—I do not issue warnings idly._

_D.M. _

He must have had one of his Hunters retrieve her wand from her apartment...the thought that anyone could get in there, no matter what his intentions, was disturbing in and of itself. If this was another attempt to make her afraid to arrest him, it wasn't going to work, Hermione thought darkly, using her wand to disapparate on the spot. She reappeared in her apartment moments later. Before she could do so much as make a cup of tea, she saw a black-robed figure run past her and disapparate. Letting out a startled shriek, she ran to the spot where the man had disapparated, but he was gone, leaving no trace behind but a vaguely familiar scent.

Her Auror training kicking in, she carefully began an exploration of her apartment. The bathroom was normal, as were the two closets in the hallway. As she entered her room, however, horror eclipsed her at the sight she saw there.

Crookshanks lay on the floor, dead, with a note laid carelessly upon his body.

_Curiosity Killed The Cat_, it read.

"No!" she screamed, running to her cat. The poor animal's body was still warm—he had been killed only moments before by the Avada Kedavra curse. Tears ran down her face as she held her beloved animal in her arms and rocked him back and forth. Long minutes passed while she sobbed desolately, but her misery was very slowly being replaced by burning, fiery anger.

"Revelio Autore!" she whispered, aiming her wand at the parchment.

Instead of revealing the writer of the note, however, the piece of parchment burst into flames.

"Damn it!" she cried, stomping out the flames. The note was now nothing but ashes on her carpet. "It has to be Malfoy—it has to! Think, Hermione, think," she growled to herself as she scooped up Crookshanks in her arms. "Proof—I need proof. The note… _Reparo!"_

Unbelievably, the charred pieces of the note came together and became one again. With a sinking heart, she realized that the handwriting on it was nowhere close to the handwriting on the letter in the package with her wand. The person who had killed her cat had an unfamiliar, messy scrawl.

"But maybe the one with my wand wasn't from him," she murmured to herself, but try as she might, she could come up with no other person who would have written what Malfoy had written in the warning note.

Deciding that she would figure this out later, she carefully carried Crookshanks outside, into the starry night. There was no place to bury her pet, as she lived in an apartment complex in the busy city of London. Holding her wand and her cat tightly, she disapparated.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley were very shocked and surprised to hear a pounding on their door in the middle of the night while they were making love.

"Do you have to get it?" Ginny moaned longingly, gazing at her naked, handsome husband.

"Yes," groaned Harry. He gave his lovely wife a kiss on her round belly that was full with his child before sitting up and pulling on a robe. When he opened the door, he saw Hermione standing there, clutching a dead cat in her arms. Tears streaked the young woman's face and she was trembling.

"Merlin, what happened?" he asked incredulously. "Come in!"

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Ginny sat side by side on a couch in the living room while Hermione sat across from them in a comfortable armchair. A fire crackled brightly in the fireplace.

"Thank you for letting me bury him here," Hermione said softly, taking a sip from the mug of hot chocolate that Ginny had given her. 

"What happened, Hermione?" Harry pressed, wrapping his arm around his yawning wife.

Hermione hesitated, not sure if she should tell him everything about what had happened to her—she didn't want to say or do anything that could jeopardize her chances of getting her badge back. If she told him about Malfoy, there was no way he would believe the rest of her story, especially because she had been completely healed of any visible mark from The Scalper.

"I came home a little while ago and when—"

"What were you doing there so late at night?" Harry interjected, looking puzzled.

"I had a book reserved in Diagon Alley and it just came in—I didn't want to wait until tomorrow," lied Hermione, taking a hasty sip of her hot chocolate to disguise her grimace; she hated lying to her friend. "When I got home, I saw someone in my house, but he disapparated. I found…" She faltered, her eyes filling with tears. She took a deep breath and managed to continue. "I found this note there, too."

She handed it to Harry. "I already tried to the 'Revelio Autore' spell, but there's some jinx on the parchment to prevent it from working," explained Hermione.

"And I suppose you think Draco Malfoy did this?" Harry asked, sighing as he examined the note.

"No," Hermione muttered, surprising Harry. "I'm actually pretty sure he didn't. Can you find out for me, though?"

"Of course," Harry said warmly, relieved that this wasn't about Malfoy again.

"How did he apparate into my house?" Hermione asked, remembering to ask the question that most disturbed her. "It should be protected by the same spells that protect all Aurors!"

Harry's face turned slightly red. "Those spells would have been canceled once your leave of absence started—you should have gotten a letter telling you that…"

"I didn't read it through very clearly," Hermione muttered, cursing her own stupidity.

"Hermione, have you talked to anyone yet?" Harry asked gently. Ginny had fallen asleep against his side.

"I'm talking to you right now," she replied, confused.

"I meant someone…professional," Harry clarified uncomfortably.

Hermione gaped; here she was with her best friend, having just lost her cat, and the first thing he asks is if she's seen a Mind Healer yet? "No, I haven't," she said bitterly, placing her empty mug on the coffee table. She stood up determinedly, a sad, betrayed look on her face. "I'm leaving—sorry to wake you up."

"Hermione—"

Hermione slipped out the door and disapparated before Harry could finish his protest.

She reappeared in her living room, overcome with disappointment over her best friend's attitude towards her. Trying hard not to give in to tears, she occupied herself by replacing all the anti-apparition spells on her apartment. It took her over two hours to finally finish all the work, and by the time she was finished, she was utterly exhausted. She collapsed her bed, ready to get a good night's sleep.

Hermione didn't wake up until noon the next day. The first thing she realized was that Crookshanks wasn't lying beside her as he usually was, and she shed a few tears at the memory.

She decided to wake herself up with a blistering hot shower, followed by a home-cooked breakfast of eggs and bacon. Once Hermione had finished her breakfast—which by that time should really be counted as lunch instead—she decided to write a letter to her parents, who were spending the summer in Brazil. Her parents had sent her a letter a few weeks prior, and with all the confusion and excitement happening then, she hadn't had time to reply.

Put quite simply, her entire letter was a lie. She began by telling her parents how much fun she was having being an Auror, followed by a quick description of the boyfriend she had fabricated so that her parents wouldn't worry about her being lonely. She concluded her letter by asking her parents how their vacation was going. The ending was the only true part of the letter, where she told her parents how much she loved them and couldn't wait to see them again.

Once Hermione had stamped and addressed the envelope, she put it in the mailbox outside her apartment, knowing that her parents would prefer to receive her letter the muggle way.

She reentered her apartment only to find an owl perched on her table. Hermione opened the letter, which bore an elegant crest she had never seen before.

_Hermione,_

_Would you do me the honor of accompanying me for a walk in Fairy Park? I would like to continue our conversation of earlier—you have interesting and intricate thoughts. If you are agreeable, we shall meet at 5:00 pm at Fairy Park (which is just south of London)._

_Eagerly awaiting your reply,_

_Mark _

The writing on the letter had obviously not been done by hand—it looked as if Mark had employed the services of a professional calligrapher to write this letter, something Hermione found flattering, if a little lazy.

Hermione quickly penned a reply, telling Mark that she would enjoy meeting him very much. An evening walk in the park, she mused…Could it be that Mark was attracted to her? This would work very well for her plan to use him to get to Malfoy.

To ease her nervousness about this meeting, Hermione went to her bookshelf and took out a familiar old comfort: Hogwarts, A History. She happily sank into a cloud of nostalgia, remembering happy times at Hogwarts with Ron and Harry.

Harry hadn't always been the way he was now, she remembered as she came across a chapter on the Room of Requirement. The final war had marked him greatly. Where before he had valued his friends above anything else, he now focused more of his efforts on his job and the criminals he arrested. Hermione knew that losing Ron had affected him just as much as it had her, but they dealt with their pain in different ways. The combination of her and Harry focusing their lives on being the best Aurors they could be had also driven them slowly apart. Auror training wasn't a walk in the park, after all. Many days she had returned home too exhausted to even eat dinner. She and Harry and rarely spoken during that time.

By the time everything had started to settle down, the damage had been done. Harry simply remembered her from the last time they had had a real conversation, which had been after Ron died. Hermione had been vulnerable—very vulnerable. Harry was still unable to get his mind away from his impression of Hermione at that time. He didn't see that she had moved on and grown up a lot in those few years.

Hermione sighed and turned the page, the memories coming quickly now.

_Hermione ducked a killing curse and sent two Stunning charms in a row at the masked Death Eater in front of her. When the man fell to the ground, unconscious, she chanced a look to her left, where she knew that Harry should be. Hundreds of feet away, Harry and Dumbledore stood side by side, dueling Lord Voldemort together. She could tell that Voldemort was getting weaker. _

"_Look out!" cried a voice. Hermione was tackled to the ground. Green light shot just over her head._

_Ron screamed a curse, and the Death Eater who had tried to kill Hermione was hurled backwards and slammed into a tree. He didn't move again._

_Ron pulled Hermione to her feet, planting a desperate kiss on her lips. "Out of all the places for this—the Forbidden Forest?"_

_He and Hermione turned to face their next enemy together. Surprisingly, there wasn't another Death Eater attacking them right away, as had happened repeatedly since the start of the battle. _

"_Over there!" Hermione yelled, pointing at a Death Eater who was standing over the body of someone, his wand mercilessly torturing them to the point of insanity._

"_Stupefy!" yelled Ron, at the same time that Hermione nonverbally cast a Binding curse on the wizard's wand._

_Ron's spell missed, but Hermione's hit the Death Eater square in the chest. The screaming boy on the ground fell limp as the Cruciatus Curse was ended by the power of Hermione's curse. _

_The Death Eater yelled in frustration and backed away from the boy, his wand now rendered useless for twenty minutes. Hermione rushed to the boy, checking that he was still breathing. It was Colin Creevey, shuddering and crying as he clutched Hermione for comfort._

"_It's all right," Hermione whispered, helping the boy to his feet._

"_Hermione!" Ron yelled frantically, running towards her._

_Hermione turned around, fear in her eyes, to see a purple light lancing directly at her. There was no time to save herself. She shoved Colin to the side and closed her eyes. But the impact never came. _

_She opened her eyes, and her very heart stopped. Ron lay on the ground, having jumped in front of her to save her. _

"_NO!" she screamed, her voice filled with raw pain that echoed throughout the whole misty forest. Even Voldemort looked over for a brief second, during which Harry's Killing Curse struck him in the chest._

_As Voldemort slowly toppled to the ground, Hermione's eyes were all on Ron as she fell to her knees, cradling his head in her lap. A deep gash had gone through Ron's stomach and too much blood had already spilled on the ground. Hermione knew no spell for healing such a grievous wound, and tears poured down her face as she realized that the wound was mortal. _

"_Ron," she choked out, brushing the hair from his forehead. _

_Ron's eyes opened, glazed with pain. "I'm sorry," he whispered, raising his bloody hand to gently stroke Hermione's cheek. "D—don't be afraid. I'll always be with—you." He tried to smile, just to make her feel better, but his eyes slowly closed and his hand fell to the ground next to him._

Hermione wiped away the tears that had escaped her eyes during her flashback. She didn't believe in angels, and she knew that Ron wasn't a ghost, yet there truly had been times when she had felt Ron's presence beside her. When she'd had an emotional breakdown right before her Auror exam, she had felt a strange sense of calm, followed by a familiar scent that had reminded her of Ron.

"Time to get ready," she murmured to herself, taking several deep breaths. If she was to make Ron proud, she would have to stop dwelling in the past.

Hermione went to her room, where she changed into black jeans and a pink, button-up shirt. With a hint of distaste, she left the first few buttons undone, so just a bit of her cleavage was revealed. She didn't date often, but that didn't mean that she didn't know what attracted men. She didn't bother with makeup, besides a hint of eyeliner to accent her eyes. She slid on her favorite black boots before combing out her hair so that it hung loose over her shoulders in curls.

She glanced at the clock—it was four thirty. She had to get going if she was going to be there by five o'clock. Apparating was out of the question, as Fairy Park was a place that muggles went to as well.

Hermione left her apartment, locking the door behind her. She tucked her wand in her pocket and walked leisurely down the four flights of steps to the ground floor, passing a few of her muggle neighbors on the way. Walking out onto the open street, she was assailed by the sounds and smells of car exhaust, cheeseburgers, and people. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she began walking towards Fairy Park. She hated the city.

The only reason she was living there was the cost; her parents had been renting the apartment for years, and the rent was fixed at the price they had began paying it years ago. Therefore, Hermione was now paying a much cheaper price than any of the other tenants in the building, and since the Auror career was not the most high-paying, this was one of the ways she saved money. Her parents never went to London very much anymore anyway, as they had moved their business to Rochester.

Hermione leisurely walked the ten blocks to Fairy Park. She had never been to this park, though she'd passed it many times. The gated park was quite large—tall trees obscured the view from above, though paths went beneath them. A brick archway was the only entrance or exit to Fairy Park. It was fairly busy on this cloudy evening, with people coming and going through the archway. Parents, children, and dogs littered the grass before the trees began. Hermione entered the park, looking around.

She felt a gentle tap on her shoulder and turned quickly, her hand instinctively going to the pocket where her wand was.

"Hello, Hermione," Mark said, smiling. He was wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt that showed off the muscles in his arms and abdomen. "You look lovely."

"Hi," Hermione replied, giving him a relieved smile in return.

"Who did you think I was?" he asked, offering her his left arm.

Hermione blushed as they began walking towards the path that led through the trees. "Just reflex, I guess," she replied, noticing with admiration the muscle in his warm arm.

"I don't think I could ever be an Auror," said Mark thoughtfully. "I believe I'd get much too paranoid after awhile—probably start thinking that everyone was an enemy."

"What about being a Healer?" Hermione countered, watching a squirrel run past them, a chestnut clutched in its mouth. "You have to watch people die every day. I'd think that was much worse…"

Mark laughed, his other hand coming around to gently touch Hermione's hand. She felt the contact but didn't shy away. "I _am_ a Healer, but I don't work at a hospital. I have a private contract with Draco Malfoy."

Hermione inwardly congratulated herself for having brought the conversation to Malfoy. They walked slowly beneath the trees as she considered what to say next. It was very quiet in this part of the park; so far they had passed only one other person. It was getting dark, but there was still enough light to see comfortably by.

"Hermione, I must confess something to you," Mark said, breaking the silence between them.

"What is it?" Hermione asked curiously. Mark's hand was still resting over her own, his fingers lightly stroking her skin.

"I'm beginning to like you very much," he murmured. "But I don't wish to be a distraction for you if you are still intent on arresting Draco…"

Hermione found herself drawn in by his gentle eyes. Their faces were very close, and she was quite aware they had stopped walking. "I'm still going to arrest him," she admitted. "But that doesn't mean we—"

A loud crack suddenly split the air as thunder roared overhead. Seconds later, rain began pouring from the sky. Hermione gasped as she became soaking wet within moments.

"Let's go!" Mark yelled, grabbing Hermione's hand and pulling her off the path, into the trees.

Hermione's feet pounded on the ground as she followed Mark, splashing through puddles that had formed instantly. Her clothes clung to her uncomfortably, but what she hated the most was the cold. The wind rushing by as they jogged through the forest made her even colder. Mark's hand was warm against hers and he seemed to know just where to go through the forest.

Hermione followed him, having no idea where they were going. Finally, they stopped at the base of an enormous tree. Despite the heavy tree cover, rain managed to force its way through and soak the pair. "Why are we here?" she asked, her teeth chattering.

"Because no muggles will be here so we can apparate out of here," Mark replied, water dripping down from his short hair. "If I may?"

Hermione nodded and allowed Mark to wrap his arms around her in a close embrace. They turned on the spot and disapparated. This time, the feeling of Apparating was different than any times she had ever done it before. The shifting and squeezing sensation halted halfway through, and something tried to rip her away from Mark. She tightened her grip on Mark, who held her tighter in return. The force relinquished its hold on her, and the two of them reappeared in a well-furnished bedroom.

The walls were a creamy yellow color that made the room seem very bright, though the rain poured down outside the window. The neatly-made bed in the corner of the room was covered in a plain blue comforter. A lamp illuminated the room with soft pink light. There were two portraits along the wall—both of young, beautiful women.

Hermione's body convulsed in a long shiver. Mark pointed his wand at her and murmured a drying spell that left her clothes and hair warm and dry.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, watching as Mark dried his clothes as well. "What happened when we apparated here?"

"There are wards around here that only some can bypass," Mark explained. "I am one of those people. The wards tried to keep you out, but since you were with me, they were forced to allow you inside."

"That's just like at Malfoy Manor," Hermione mused. "Wait a minute—we're at Malfoy Manor, aren't we?"

Mark nodded sheepishly. "I live here, and I couldn't think of anywhere else to apparate to."

"What does the tattoo look like?" Hermione asked curiously, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Mark cocked an eyebrow quizzically.

"Malfoy said there's a tattoo on every Hunter's wrist that allows you to apparate and disapparate here," explained Hermione. "What does it look like?"

Mark looked extremely taken aback. "He's been very frank with you, hasn't he?" He took a moment to relax and then rolled up his sleeve to reveal a small black M, barely the size of a penny, tattooed on the base of his wrist.

"M for Malfoy?" Hermione snorted, unable to believe the arrogance.

"Draco didn't want anything tattooed on him that would cast suspicion were anyone to see it," Mark explained, sitting beside Hermione. "An 'M' is easily explainable for him."

"Interesting," she murmured. "He's been able to think of just about everything—I had him pegged as a moronic prat in school, but it seems like I misjudged him on that…"

"Him?" Mark burst out, startling Hermione, who jumped. "He didn't think of anything! His more intelligent friends were the ones who came up with every good idea that you attribute to him." Mark looked the most agitated that Hermione had seen him so far.

"Who are his friends?" Hermione pressed, aware that she had hit a nerve. Her brown eyes locked on his, desperately willing him to tell her something that she could use against him.

"If it'd been he making all the decisions, the Hunters wouldn't have lasted one—" Mark's rant was cut off as a knock sounded on the door, followed by the door being opened.

Draco Malfoy walked into the room, dressed in an expensive-looking black suit. He was examining the cuffs of his sleeves as he spoke without looking up. "I'm leaving to go to the Ministry for a publicity event—benefit for St. Mungo's, or whatever you signed me up for. We're very close to locating the Surrey Slasher—he's definitely a wizard from the area. Oh, and Daniel got hit with a rather nasty curse and he needs you to—" Malfoy finally looked up. "What in bloody hell is _she _doing here?"

Mark put his arm around Hermione protectively, his fingers tight on her right arm. "As I discussed with you this morning, Draco," he said softly and dangerously, "I rather enjoy Hermione's company, and I will have the privilege of meeting her wherever I wish."

Malfoy's face went slightly pink. "I need to leave, as does she," he bit out, clearly attempting to keep his tongue in check, but Hermione couldn't figure out why he would bother. Did he fear Mark? "You're supposed to be at this benefit, aren't you, Granger?"

Mark's fingers tightened a fraction more, his grip becoming almost bruising.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply that she wasn't, but Malfoy gave her a curt shake of the head that seemed like a warning. "I—yes, because it's a Ministry event," she said to Mark, now gritting her teeth to keep from wincing at the pain Mark was unwittingly causing her.

"Hermione, I have plans for you tonight," Mark said softly, looking at her, a glint in his eye that seemed almost menacing.

Behind Mark, Malfoy mouthed "NO." Unlike Mark, his expression wasn't hard to read. His eyes flashed a warning while his mouth was a hard line. He was worried and angry. Mark, in contrast, was staring at her with eyes that promised danger if she didn't do what he wanted.

"I'm really sorry, Mark," Hermione apologized, going with her hunch that there was something wrong with Mark right now—as strange as it seemed, Malfoy seemed like the safest option. "I promised one of my friends that I would go tonight—he'll miss me if I'm not there."

"Are you wearing that?" Mark said skeptically, veiled anger in his voice. "I'll take you home so that you can change."

"I—"

Hermione was saved from answering by Malfoy, who cut in nonchalantly, "I'll have your dress sent here—you don't have enough time to go back and change."

Mark stood up, pulling Hermione with him by the firm grasp he still had on her arm. He and Malfoy stood eye to eye, though Mark was slightly shorter than Malfoy. Malfoy fixed his calm grey eyes on Mark's hazel ones, which shone with frustrated anger.

Hermione let out an involuntary whimper as Mark's grip on her arm reached a painful crescendo. Malfoy and Mark broke their visual standoff to look at her. Hermione tried to pull her arm away.

"Oh, I'm so very sorry, Hermione," Mark apologized, releasing her arm immediately.

"It's fine," Hermione said shakily, taking an unconscious step towards Malfoy. It seemed incredible, but her senses were telling her that Malfoy was the safer of the two men just now.

"I'll show you to a room where you can change," Malfoy said commandingly, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder and steering her out of the room. "You're so helpless," he growled as he led her out the door and a few rooms down, which Hermione recognized to be his room. "You keep getting yourself into these impossible situations—what is _wrong_ with you?"

Hermione refused to look him in the eye, even as he slammed the door shut behind him and muttered a locking charm. Malfoy put a finger under her chin until her eyes met his.

"It was Mark," she said softly. "He was the one who killed my cat, wasn't he?"

Malfoy sighed and stepped away from her. He went to his closet and rummaged around for a few moments until he drew out a deep purple dress. "Here, you can wear this," he said, laying it out on the bed.

"I'm not actually going to the benefit," Hermione said, folding her arms across her chest.

"You have to," Malfoy replied. "Mark will know—you can bet he'll have someone there to check." 

"Why should I be afraid of him?" said Hermione stubbornly—after the day's events, the last thing she wanted to do was go to an expensive benefit wearing Malfoy's clothes. "And why do you have women's clothes in your room?"

Malfoy turned a chair around and straddled it backwards. "The clothes are my mother's," he replied coldly, sadness flickering across his features. Some warmth returned to his voice, however, as he continued. "And you should be afraid of Mark because he's a very dangerous person—even more dangerous than me. He's killed over—did he do that?"

Malfoy's eyes were focused directly on Hermione's right arm, which showed very clear fingerprint bruises.

Hermione followed his gaze and gasped. "I had no idea he was holding me that hard," she said. She pulled out her wand to heal the bruises, but before she could do so, Malfoy pointed his wand at her arm and healed them instantly. "Thanks," she muttered.

"You should get dressed, or we'll be late," Malfoy said brusquely, as if making up for being nice.

"What part of 'I'm not going' do you not understand?" Hermione snapped, standing up abruptly, her wand gripped firmly in her hand.

Malfoy hissed for her to be quiet as a hard knock sounded on the door. He strode over to the door and called, "What?"

"It's me," replied Mark's voice. "Is Hermione in there?"

Hermione looked at Malfoy, wide-eyed. She had half a mind to reveal her presence to Mark, but the ache in her arm told her otherwise.

"She's changing," Malfoy answered, his eyes boring into Hermione's. She got to her feet immediately and waved her wand silently. The air between them solidified and become opaque, providing an effective way for her to change in privacy.

"Hermione, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry we had to cut our conversation short—perhaps we can get together tomorrow sometime? Or the next day?"

Hermione peeked over the top of the barrier, her mouth open to reply with an emphatic _No,_ but Malfoy shook his head and mouthed, "Say yes."

He looked intensely serious, and Hermione reflected upon the fact that as of yet, Malfoy hadn't hurt her. She went with her gut and called out, "I'd love to."

"Lovely," said Mark warmly. His footsteps were softer and softer as he walked away.

"Why am I seeing him again if he's so dangerous?" Hermione bit out as she stepped into the dress that Malfoy had laid out for her. It was too long for her, so she used her wand to magically alter the material.

"Because he can't know that anything is wrong or he'll kill you," growled Malfoy. "You need to fool him into thinking that you have no intention or possibility of arresting the Hunters."

Hermione looked down at her black boots and transfigured them into shoes that matched the dress. She put her wand on the inside of her thigh, whispering a spell to keep it in place. When everything looked satisfactory, she stepped out from behind the barrier, which shimmered and vanished. "How do I know that this isn't some plan that you and Mark cooked up to scare me into keeping quiet?"

"You don't," admitted Malfoy, looking her up and down expressionlessly. "But you stand the greatest chance of surviving if you do as I say. Quite frankly, I have the utmost confidence in the fact that you will be unable to arrest me for a long time. Mark isn't so sure. You clean up nice, Granger."

Hermione glared at him before looking down at herself self-consciously. The deep purple formal dress fit her perfectly, thanks to the alterations. It went to just above her knees, revealing tanned, toned legs. Her breasts fit well in the v-neck of the dress, and the short, ruffled sleeves showed off her slender arms. The black heels she was wearing accentuated her delicate ankles and made her legs appear beautifully long.

"How about this?" Malfoy said, sighing. "If you allow me to escort you to the benefit tonight, I'll do my best to get Mark off of your back and we can go back to never seeing each other." 

"Why do you want me to go with you to the benefit?" Hermione asked skeptically, thinking it over.

"Because while you may not believe it, Mark is very dangerous—if you don't go tonight, you'll be in even worse danger," Malfoy replied. He got to his feet and held out his arm.

"Why do you care if I'm in danger?"

"Self preservation, as always. If you show up dead, I'm the first suspect. Plus, if you are with me, it might discourage some of the lonely women who insist on stalking me at such events."

Hermione looked at Malfoy's arm as if it was a live snake.

"Do you think I would hurt you?" Malfoy asked quietly.

Hermione looked him up and down, drinking in his presence with every sense she had. She heard the gentle sound of his breathing as he awaited her answer. She saw his fine, black suit with its silver cuff links in the shape of the Malfoy crest. She smelled the alluring scent of his cologne. Her memory flew back to certain events that had occurred recently. Malfoy had saved her from the killer in the alley; he had tried to warn her about Mark; he had caught her very gently in his arms when she'd passed out in his drawing room.

"No," she said softly, placing her small hand in his.


	9. Chapter 9

Malfoy said, "Hold tight," and turned in a circle, pulling them into disapparation. Just like the previous time, the wards against apparation tried to pull her away from Malfoy and nearly succeeded, but Malfoy threw his other arm around her to keep her from being separated.

They reappeared in an office. Malfoy let go of her.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked, looking around.

"In my office at the Ministry," Malfoy replied, walking towards the door. "It's just an elevator ride away from the benefit. It wouldn't be very classy to apparate there."

"What office?" Hermione asked as she followed him out the door.

"I'm on the board of trustees for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," answered Malfoy as they walked into the elevator. "The Ministry enjoys the money I give to them."

Hermione's jaw dropped. No wonder no one wanted to arrest him! Just another thing stacked against her. She said nothing until the elevator opened on the fifth floor.

"It's in here," Malfoy said, pushing open the door to room 502.

Room 502, which was ordinarily left vacant unless used for occasions like these, was decorated lavishly in gold and black decorations. A banner across the back wall read, "St. Mungo's Appreciates Your Donations." A table laden with refreshments sat below it. Most of the people were in the center of the room, dancing to a cheerful tune being played by the band. Before Hermione could absorb more of her surroundings than that, a short, plump man dressed in an ill-fitting tuxedo hurried up to them.

"Names?" he squawked, his voice so high-pitched that Hermione fought the urge to wince.

"Malfoy," snapped Malfoy imperiously, clearly not appreciating the man's voice either.

"Excellent! And who is she?"

"She's not on the list," Malfoy replied before Hermione could say anything. "But it'll be well worth your while to put her on it." He slipped a pouch heavy with galleons into the man's pocket.

The little man raised his eyebrows, pulled a quill out of his pocket, and whispered, "Name?"

"Hermione Granger," Malfoy said, pulling Hermione with him as they walked away.

"Mr. Malfoy, is it true that you donated 100,000 galleons to St. Mungo's for their new Spell Damage wing?" said a woman with a quill and paper who slipped in between Hermione and Malfoy.

"Yes," Malfoy said curtly, easing away from the woman. "No interviews tonight, please."

Hermione lost Malfoy in the throng of people that formed around the handsome, rich bachelor. She remembered her promise to stay near him, but she didn't relish the idea of pushing through the crowd to approach him. Plus, she was still uneasy over her feelings towards him. She didn't necessarily hate him anymore…maybe.

"Hermione!" called a cheerful voice.

Hermione turned to see Gary waving her over.

She made her way over to him, smiling brightly. "Hey, Gary!"

Gary hugged her enthusiastically. "I've never seen you, well, dressed like a girl before," he said awkwardly as he pulled away. "You look good."

Hermione gave him a small smile. "Thank you, I think," she said with a light laugh.

"What Harry did wasn't cool," Gary said, leaning close to whisper in her ear. His gangly form made it somewhat of an awkward position. "Me and a few others agree with you, at least about Ractor. We've compiled this for you." He reached for Hermione's hand and pressed a small, silver cube into it. "Say 'Revelio' and you'll be able to view the information recorded on it."

"Thanks," Hermione whispered, incredibly touched by this gesture. She tucked it carefully in her bra, as she had no pockets. She would look at it at her earliest opportunity.

A smartly-dressed waiter approached the two. "Drink, ma'am?"

"Yes, please," she replied, taking a glass from his tray. She took a sip, wincing at the strong flavor. "What is this?"

"Straight vodka, from the looks of it," Malfoy said smoothly, coming up behind her.

Gary glared daggers at Malfoy, who merely gave him a contemptuous glance in return.

"These women are making me crazy, Granger," Malfoy said icily. "Come dance with me."

"Her name's Hermione, Mr. Malfoy," Gary said, his mouth contorted in an uncharacteristic frown. "If you want her to dance with you, you should ask nicely."

Hermione downed the rest of the vodka in preparation for the ordeal that was sure to come.

Malfoy frowned and sighed impressively. _"Hermione,_ would you do me the honor of gracing me with a dance?" His voice was absolutely dripping with sarcasm, but his eyes danced with mirth.

Hermione grinned. "Certainly,_ Draco_."

Malfoy grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the dance floor. He took the empty glass from her hand and handed it to a passing waiter. The music began playing a slow waltz and Hermione found it easy enough to follow the steps.

"So, you prefer the company of a muggleborn to all those lovely women lusting after you?" she asked, whirling around the dance floor in time with the music. Malfoy was an excellent dancer, both graceful and sure of his footing.

"I've had enough of their kind to last me a lifetime," he muttered. His hands on her body were in the perfect position for the waltz, not an inch above or below what was proper. The music continued and the pair danced, oblivious to the eyes upon them and the flashing of photographs being taken. "I seem to have made quite an impression on your friend back there."

"He's an Auror," Hermione explained. "He's on my side, not yours."

"Everyone can be bought," Malfoy said smugly.

"And Ractor? How much did you buy him for?"

"Ah ah ah, I can't be revealing too much to you, or before I know it you'll be clapping me in irons," Malfoy said, smirking.

The song ended and Hermione moved away from Malfoy delicately. "I'll be back," he told her.

Hermione watched him disappear into the crowd and went to find Gary. She found him over by the bar, drinking a beer and flirting with the female bartender.

"Oy!" Gary laughed as Hermione came up. "How was your dance with his royal majesty?"

"Shut up," she laughed in reply, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

"Here," Gary said, pushing a bright orange drink towards her. "I just discovered these, they're fantastic."

Hermione noticed with a smile that he was slurring his words. She suspected that the bartender's beauty probably had something to do with the fact that Gary kept ordering more drinks. She took a tentative sip of the sparkling orange drink. A rush of coolness flooded through her body, replaced by heat a moment later. It had a minty orange aftertaste. "Wow."

"I know! Marisa, can I get another one of those?" Gary asked, hailing the pretty bartender over.

Marisa glided over, a smile on her plump lips. "Here you go, Gar."

Gary blushed and downed the drink in three large gulps. "Come on, Hermione. Drink yours!"

Hermione sighed and slowly but steadily drank the rest of her drink.

"Yeah!" cheered Gary.

Hermione jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see Malfoy behind her, two glasses in his hand.

"Wine?" he asked, handing her a glass.

"Thanks," Hermione said, her face feeling very warm. She took a sip of the red wine as she watched Gary escort a young woman over to the dance floor.

"Are you all right?" he asked, looking at her closely. "You look flushed."

"I'm fine," she said, waving her hand carelessly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. He was about to reply, but a slender redhead eased between him and Hermione. "Hello, Draco," she said alluringly, her gold dress clinging to a beautiful body. "I've been trying to find you all evening—Mark told me you'd be here."

"Lorelei," Malfoy murmured, kissing her hand. His face was a mask that revealed nothing of his feelings towards seeing her.

Lorelei giggled and threw her arms around his neck, whispering hotly in his ear, "Come dance with me."

Hermione watched the two, wondering blithely if she should break them apart as part of her duty to Malfoy, but as her head spun, she decided against it. Lorelei pulled Malfoy towards the dancers, a bright smile on her entrancing face. Malfoy looked much less enthused, however.

As she watched Malfoy dance with Lorelei, she could feel the effects of the alcohol begin to sink in. Her body felt light and tingly, and she felt very warm. Malfoy looked very striking in his suit, and he moved with Lorelei in time with the music. A man began walking towards Hermione, and a cold jolt went through the girl as she realized that it was Mark Williams. Malfoy continued dancing with his partner, his back to Hermione. Lorelei watched over his shoulder, a smug smile on her lips.

"Hermione, I must say that I'm surprised to see you here," Mark admitted, leaning against the bar counter beside her.

Hermione wished she hadn't had anything to drink—a clear head would be very helpful just now. "Why?" she asked, doing her best to keep the tension from her voice. She wanted to kill this man who had killed her cat, but she could do nothing in a room full of people.

"This doesn't seem like the kind of event that you'd attend willingly," Mark said easily, signaling for the bartender to bring him a drink. "You seem more down-to-earth than the people here."

"I'm here with my friend Gary," Hermione said immediately, the lie coming quickly to her lips. She pressed her legs together to quell her nervousness, feeling the reassuring texture of her wand against her inner thigh. "He asked me to come with him."

"How very kind of you to go with him," Mark praised her, smiling. "Would you join me for a dance?"

Hermione nodded, swallowing back her dizziness. As she left the comforting support of the bar top, she felt herself stumbling. Mark steadied her and she was forced to use him for support. She had definitely had too much to drink. What had been in that orange drink?

"I should have known," sneered Malfoy as Mark and Hermione approached him. "Lorelei's never without you, is she?"

Lorelei let go of Malfoy and walked over to Mark, kissing him on the cheek.

"Family ties are strong," Mark laughed, gesturing to his sister.

"We've always got each others' backs," Lorelei seconded, glaring at Hermione, who was arm-in-arm with her brother.

"Well, Hermione, I'd say it's time for a dance," Mark said as the band began playing another song.

Malfoy's face was cold as he watched the two move onto the dance floor.

"Come on, sweetie," Lorelei purred, pulling on Malfoy's arm to get him to follow.

Hermione danced with Mark, remaining silent as the slow music filled the air around her. Mark pulled her close so that her head rested against on his shoulder. They slowly swayed to the music. "You look so beautiful tonight," Mark murmured into her ear. His hands moved in light circles over her back. "Radiant, even. This Gary is a lucky fellow."

"He's not my boyfriend," Hermione gritted out, trying to sound pleasant when she was dizzy from the alcohol and furious with the man she was dancing with.

"May I perhaps offer my name for consideration for the position?" Mark asked, a hand dipping lower to caress the top of her bottom.

Surprised and insulted by his touch, Hermione pushed Mark away forcefully. Anger built inside her—anger at Malfoy for making her pretend that she liked Mark, anger at Mark for killing her cat, and anger at Harry for putting her in this ridiculous situation in the first place! Emboldened by the alcohol, Hermione burst out angrily, "I know exactly what you're doing, Mark, so we can stop the lies!"

Dancing nearby with Loreli, Malfoy nearly tripped over his own feet in shock.

Mark stared at her, dumbfounded at this outburst. He let go of Lorelei, ignoring her angry hiss, and stepped quickly behind Hermione. He covered her mouth with his hand. "Clearly she's had a bit too much to—Ouch!" He cried out in pain as she bit his hand.

"I know that you're just testing me to see if I'm a danger to your pathetic mob," Hermione hissed, shoving Malfoy's hand away. "Well, guess what? I'm the most dangerous bloody thing to ever happen to the Hunters, so you better watch your back—and if you ever come near me again, I'll curse your head off! Got it?"

Mark's hazel eyes flashed with anger, and Lorelei looked equally furious. The two of them faced Malfoy and Hermione in a strange standoff.

"We're in the middle of a public place," Lorelei hissed, her eyes darting from side to side. People were beginning to stare. She pulled her brother's hand away from his pocketed wand, glaring furiously at Hermione.

"He told you that I was testing you, didn't he?" Mark asked dangerously, his eyes flicking to Malfoy and then back to Hermione.

"Yes," replied Hermione defiantly. She felt incredibly dizzy from the alcohol, but she was proud of herself for finally stopping all the pretension. She was done pretending to like Mark, no matter what Malfoy said.

"You're dead, Draco," hissed Mark. "Bloody traitor!"

A well-dressed man in his early forties walked over to the four and put his hand on Mark's shoulder. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to—"

Mark turned on the spot, drawing his wand on the man. As the man fell to the floor, twitching, people began screaming. Hermione slid her hand up her thigh to grab her wand, but she knew that she would be unable to aim at Mark in time—his mouth was already forming the curse that he had chosen to use on her. Flames burst from the end of Mark's black wand, accompanied by a hideous roar.

The jaws of the fiery chimaera opened wide, ready to engulf Hermione, but Malfoy's strong arms encircled her and dragged her into apparition.

They reappeared on a grassy hill at the base of a mountain. "That was Fiendfyre!" she choked out, her face ashen. The alcohol still running through her system made her quite nauseous. She finished unsheathing her wand and straightened her dress, noticing as she did so that the small silver cube Gary had given her was no longer tucked in her bra—it had fallen out somewhere!

Malfoy was pale as well. He looked to be more angry than frightened, however. "Yes, and it will probably be able to track our apparition, so—"

Hermione felt an intense pain and let out a scream as a raging plume of fire appeared in midair next to her, licking at her arm. Malfoy seized her other arm in an iron grip and disapparated once more. The pain in her arm didn't cease, however, and Hermione was forced to endure it as Malfoy apparated over and over again in quick succession. Each time, the flames appeared just moments after they appeared in a new place. In desperation, Malfoy finally apparated them the once place he hoped would defeat pursuit.

Hermione choked on a mouthful of saltwater as they landed in the Atlantic Ocean. The freezing cold water nearly paralyzed her limbs, but it effectively chased away her inebriation.

"Down!" coughed Malfoy as the fire showed itself above them.

Hermione dove under the water, feeling it warm up as the flames followed. She swam down as hard as she could, kicking off her shoes as she did so. After twenty seconds of hard swimming into the icy depths of the ocean, she was unable to move her arms or legs anymore. The cold sank into her very bones and she began to feel completely numb. The Fiendfyre finally sizzled and fizzed into nonexistence. She began kicking her way to the surface, even as the lack of air made her chest feel like it was going to burst.

Hermione's head finally broke the surface and she shook the hair out of her face quickly, her eyes darting around as she looked for the Fiendfyre. It was nowhere to be seen. Her leaden limbs worked hard to keep her afloat as her body was wracked with violent shivers. She looked around for Malfoy, but couldn't see him anywhere. She quickly cast a Bubble-Head charm on herself and dove beneath the surface once more.

She spotted him meters below her, desperately swimming downwards; in the black water, he had no idea which way was up. His wand was in his hand and bubbles escaped his mouth as he tried to cast a spell—any spell—but the water swallowed up his words and the efforts were useless.

Hermione grabbed his upper arm and dragged him upwards, struggling against his weight. She reached the surface of the water and began coughing and choking as she expelled the water from her lungs.

Malfoy was in the same condition next to her, his lips turning blue as he struggled to stay afloat. Hermione grabbed his arm and revolved in an awkward circle in the water, concentrating hard as she disapparated with him.

"B-bloody hell!" gasped Hermione as they landed in the middle of her living room. Without regards to modesty, she stripped off the dress, exposing her left arm and shoulder, which was still smoking from the Fiendfyre even after being totally doused with water.

Malfoy cast a drying spell on the both of them, studiously not looking at Hermione. He shrugged out of his suit coat.

"It's burning! It's still burning! Do you know how to stop this?" Hermione gritted out, slipping into a pair of clean pajamas that had been lying folded on the table. To ease the nausea and dizziness that she still felt from the alcohol, she quickly drank a hangover-curing potion from her cabinet. She sat down on the sofa, trying not to look at the still burning wound.

"Yes," he replied haughtily. "And you could speak a little more respectfully, seeing as I just saved your life."

Though his words were scornful, his touch was gentle when he took her arm in his hand and traced his wand on the smoldering burns of her arm.

"And I just saved your life in the water, Malfoy," she retorted, trying not to wince.

Malfoy ignored her and began speaking a long series of incantations that sounded like an ancient language.

"How do you know this?" demanded Hermione, watching as the burns began to close and heal before her very eyes. "Fiendfyre is one of the most dark and mysterious branches of magic!"

"You forget who my father was, Granger. I learned much from him before he was killed," Malfoy said, interrupting the flow of magic. Before the burns could open up again, he continued the incantation until the skin of Hermione's arm was completely healed.

Hermione looked up at him, her body relaxing as the pain faded away. A relieved smile softened her face and erased all bad feelings that she had about him for the moment.

Malfoy ran his fingers along the freshly-healed skin. "Does that hurt?" he asked.

"No," Hermione replied quietly.

"Good," Malfoy said. He stormed across the room and folded his arms over his chest furiously. "Now, how could you possibly so stupid?" he snapped, his voice raised to almost a yell. "After all I've done for you—all the help, the warnings—and you just throw it all away in a second? You're an Auror—why the _hell _would you let yourself get drunk?"

His glare pierced through her, and Hermione realized that he was right: she had made a terrible mistake.

"I didn't know that Mark was going to be there," she protested, wanting to justify her actions somehow. "And in case you don't recall, I'm not an Auror anymore, remember? _You_ saw to that!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, still furious. His suit was wrinkled from the ocean, but his hair looked as good as ever. He was keeping a distance of about fifteen feet from her for her own protection—his anger was extensive. "You may not be an Auror in title, but you still think of yourself as one. If I'm going to continue wasting my time on you, you'd better explain yourself right now," he snarled.

Hermione sighed and crossed her arms defensively. "Everyone needs a break once in a while," she admitted, looking down. "I didn't think anything was going to happen that night, and I just wanted to have some fun. I didn't know Mark was going to be there," repeated the young woman. "Mark killed my bloody cat, and there's no way that I'm going to pretend to like him anymore! I'm sorry, but I couldn't do it."

"Well, you've just put my life in danger as well as yours," growled Malfoy, walking towards her. Hermione flinched as he got close. "Don't be a fool—I'm not going to hurt you."

"Why are you afraid of him?" Hermione demanded to know. "Isn't he your friend—or at the very least, your partner in crime? And if you know how to stop the progression of Fiendfyre, isn't there more Dark magic that you know? How can he be more powerful than you?"

Malfoy looked quite put out with all the questions. He sat beside her on the sofa, taking care to be on the extreme opposite end so that they wouldn't touch in any way.

"First off, I'm going to make one thing very clear to you, Granger," Malfoy said menacingly. "I am afraid of no one. I know many types of Dark Magic—spells and curses that would give you nightmares."

"That's only one of my questions answered," Hermione stated stubbornly when Malfoy paused.

"That's the only one that needs answering."

Hermione remained quiet for a few moments. "Why don't we just go to the Ministry?" she said finally. "Since you can no longer be a part of the Hunters, why not finally turn them in? I'm sure you wouldn't go Azkaban if you helped turn the others in."

Malfoy's expression told her exactly what he thought of that idea, but he answered her anyway. "I'm not going to turn in the Hunters simply because of Mark. I just need to get rid of him."

"If you're not afraid of him, then why don't you simply 'get rid of him,' as you put it?" Hermione asked logically.

"It's a long story."

A heavy knocking sounded on the door before Hermione could push Malfoy for more information. Both of them reached for their wands.

"Who is it?" Hermione called, taking up a defensive position to the side of her door.

The door exploded inwards, showering Herminone with chunks of wood and metal. Had she not been to the side of the door, she certainly would have been killed. Mark and another Hunter stood in the doorway, wands aloft.

"So sorry it has to come to this, Hermione," Mark said regretfully, while Hermione regained her balance. "Take him." The rapped out order was directed to the other Hunter, whom Hermione recognized as the one she had tied up the night she'd tried to arrest Malfoy.

"Back off, Ramsey," Malfoy warned from behind her, his wand raised. "I'm still your leader, and I can drop you in a second."

Ramsey walked past Hermione towards Malfoy.

Hermione kept her eyes on Mark, ready to attack.

"You were going to betray us, Boss," said the deep voice of Ramsey from behind her.

"Is that what Mark told you?" sneered Malfoy.

Mark smirked at Hermione. "Ready to die?"

"Hardly," spat Hermione. For the first time since she became an Auror, she attacked first without waiting to be attacked. Mark barely managed to put up a shield charm in time to protect himself.

Hermione heard the shouted curses from behind her as Malfoy and Ramsey dueled in her living room. She hoped desperately that none of their curses would hit her, but then she focused every ounce of her concentration on Mark.

She had an advantage over him due to her competency with nonverbal spells, but blocking Mark's dark curses were slowly wearing her down. Liquid splashed all over her back from behind and she whirled around, seeing Ramsey dead on the ground. It took her only moments to realize that the liquid on her was blood that had sprayed from Ramsey's body as he fell.

Fighting back the urge to gag, she turned back to Mark, who was likewise staring at Ramsey.

"Too bad you can't use that curse on ME, Draco," Mark sneered softly. "You're useless against me."

Malfoy swore and threw a decorative knife from the bookshelf at Mark. Mark laughed and made the knife explode in midair. "Avada Kedavra!" Mark cried. Malfoy threw himself against the wall to avoid the curse, letting out a grunt of pain as his body connected with the wall.

"Attack him!" shrieked Hermione, knowing that two on one they could definitely beat him. She tried stunning him three more times, but Mark blocked each one.

"But he can't, Hermione!" cackled Mark, catching Hermione off guard with a hex that caused a deep gash to open in her thigh. "Oh, but didn't you tell her, Draco?"

Hermione gasped in pain, her leg threatening to give out, but she managed to remain standing. Malfoy quickly slid his arm around her, helping her stay on her feet.

"Say 'Atrum Decedo,'" he hissed into her ear.

So intent on revealing Draco's weakness, Mark didn't notice this whispered command from Malfoy to Hermione. "Draco made the very bad decision to—"

"A-Atrum Decedo!" gasped Hermione, her wand aimed squarely at Mark's chest.

"No!" whispered Mark, backing up as dark shadows burst out of her wand and swarmed towards him. They swirled around him, eliciting anguished screams from the man.

"Time to go," growled Malfoy, watching the scene in front of him with undisguised glee.

"What did I do to him?" Hermione asked in horror, Malfoy's arm around her waist the only thing keeping her from instinctively running to him. She glanced down at the blood streaming down her leg and realized that she needed the wound healed very soon.

"Unless you want to kill him now, which I doubt—your irritating moral standards and all—then I need to get out of here before whoever's coming up the stairs gets here," Malfoy interrupted her.

Hermione realized that she could hear footsteps on the staircase. "Okay, take me with you," she said, making an instant decision.

Malfoy stared at her, his face inscrutable. "I'll take you to Potter," he offered.

"Harry can't help me," Hermione said, her eyes blazing. "Take me with you—it's the only way I'll have a shot of taking down the Hunters."

"You may come, but know that my only goal is to get rid of Mark—the Hunters are staying in existence."

The two of them stared at each other for a brief moment, neither backing down.

A scream from the hallway outside the door made them remember their hurry. Malfoy disapparated the both of them away from Hermione's apartment.

They reappeared in a pitch-black place.

"Where are we?" Hermione said nervously, reassured by the fact that Malfoy's arm was still around her.

"We're in the Forbidden Forest."

"There are—there are werewolves in here! We can't stay here!" Hermione yelped, pulling free of Malfoy's grip. "Lumos!"

Bright light shone forth from her wand, illuminating the sleeping forest.

"Don't be a ninny, Granger—Mark won't look for us here, so we'll be safe for awhile," Malfoy explained.

Hermione looked around at the tall, thick trees looming threateningly overhead. The moon seemed to be losing a battle against the heavy tree canopy, and little to no light managed to filter down to the ground. Leaves rustled in the brush and a wolf howled in the distance.

"This is beyond creepy," she said, trying not to sound as scared as she felt.

"You can face down a cold-blooded murderer, but balk in the face of darkness?" Malfoy asked, smirking. His teeth shone in the darkness.

"I'm going to climb a tree," she spat, heading for the nearest oak. "You can stay down here and get yourself killed all you want."

She grabbed the lowest branch of the tree determinedly and swung herself up to the next branch. Pain shot through her right thigh as she was reminded of her unhealed wound. "Ah!" she cried out in pain, falling heavily to the ground.

Malfoy sauntered over to her side. He examined her leg. "Dumb move, Hermione."

Hermione gaped at him.

"If I'm going to be stuck with you, I might as well use your damn name," Malfoy said with a roll of his eyes. "Now don't yell, but this is going to hurt."

"I can heal my own—Ouch!"

Malfoy's muttered disinfecting spell made her leg feel like it was on fire for long seconds before it stopped. He used the same incantation he'd used on her when she had been attacked by The Scalper. The wound closed up completely, leaving only the bloody rip in her pants to show where it had been.

"Why am I always the one who gets hurt?" groaned Hermione. She accepted Malfoy's hand and got to her feet. "And thanks. Should I call you Draco now?"

"I suppose it would be fitting," he sighed in reply, releasing her hand.

The coyote howled again, this time sounding much closer.

Hermione let out a small shriek and fled to the foot of the tree she had tried to climb before. Within a minute, she was high in the branches. "Are you coming?" she called down, noticing that Malfoy had made no move to follow her; rather, he was staring up at her scornfully.

"If you insist."

Hermione watched appreciatively as he climbed the tree easily, his muscles in clear display. As he sat next to her on the branch, his hand brushed hers. Startled and slightly flustered for some reason she didn't understand, Hermione dropped her wand. It fell to the forest floor. "Oh, Merlin," she cursed, beginning to climb back down the tree. It wasn't until she had reached the bottom that Malfoy called down mockingly, "I could've summoned it for you, you know."

"Great!" she called in reply. "Now when I get shot by a centaur we'll know it's all your fault."

"There's nothing to be scared of in—shit, look out!"

"That's not funny!" Hermione yelled, thinking he was joking. She glared up at him.

A vicious snarl rumbled from behind her. Breathless with fear, Hermione turned around slowly.

An enormous, snarling wolf slinked out of the brush to her right, fangs bared. It was larger than a normal wolf, and jet-black. Its eyes gleamed red as it approached Hermione, who was frozen with fear.

"Get up here!" yelled Malfoy.

Hermione unfroze at his words and ran for the tree, her face completely white. The wolf was right on her heels as she reached the tree with no time to climb it. Malfoy was waiting on the lowest branch, his hand held out.

"Impedimenta!" screamed Hermione. Her aim was true, and the wolf froze in mid-bite, giving her the time she needed to grab Malfoy's strong hand. He gripped her hand tightly and swung her up beside him just as the wolf regained movement and snapped at her heels. Hermione scrambled upwards through the branches at top speed, ignoring the twigs and leaves that slapped across her face and stung her eyes. She could hear Malfoy beside her as they both climbed high to avoid the angry wolf.

When they had reached a good height, they paused, resting against the thick trunk of the tree. There was silence between the two of them except for Hermione's panicked breathing for a good thirty seconds before Malfoy said uncomfortably, "Are you okay?"

"No."

Malfoy paused for a moment before slowly putting his arm around her. Hermione remained stiff and unmoving for long seconds before letting out a sigh and allowing herself to relax against him.

"People don't bother me," she confessed. "But giant wolves are another story."

"I understand," murmured Malfoy.

Apart from wearing dirty, bloody pajamas, Hermione was extremely comfortable. Her heart was pounding, for some reason she didn't fully understand, and her entire body felt hot.

The two sat beside each other awkwardly for a few moments until Hermione finally said, "I'm exhausted right now, but tomorrow we need to figure out what to do."

"Naturally," Malfoy drawled.

Hermione leaned back against the tree, her eyes slowly drifting shut as she fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

"I cannot believe you allowed this to happen," Mark said softly, his voice quite deadly. He held the small, silver cube between his thumb and finger, twisting it around as he looked at the man standing in front of him.

"Where is Malfoy? I refuse to speak to a minion," snarled Ractor, his lip curling as he slouched insolently against the wall in the entranceway of Malfoy Manor.

"A minion?" Mark visibly took ten seconds to calm down before he continued. "Draco is no longer the leader of the Hunters. He's a traitor."

"I don't believe it," Ractor snapped. "And if so, how do you plan to pay me?"

"That's what I've brought you here to talk about," Mark sneered. "We're going to have to let you go. Not because of the money—because of your incredible carelessness. Contained on it is enough information to reveal you as one of the Hunters. Imagine what would have happened if this little bundle of information had made its way to its intended recipient!"

Ractor whipped out his wand, realizing that he had very quickly become a liability to Mark. "Stupefy!" he cried.

The red light hit Mark square in the chest and knocked him to the ground, unconscious. Ractor had exactly half a minute of victory before his heart stopped beating and he dropped dead.

Hermione felt a tickling on her nose and woke up, blinking slowly. The early-morning sun illuminated a large black spider hanging from a branch above her, inches away from her nose. Before the scream could erupt from the young woman's mouth, a hand came from behind her and clamped over her mouth. Another hand flicked away the spider.

"Hush," Malfoy hissed into her ear, releasing her mouth. He pointed downwards through the tree branches at the forest floor beneath them. Two black-robed figures were walking under them, wands aloft. "Stay here."

Hermione watched as Draco silently climbed down the tree, landing on the ground behind the two men. The two men whirled around, and several jets of light shot between them and Malfoy for several seconds before stopping. They were too far away for Hermione to hear what they were saying, so she slowly descended from her branch, trying to be quiet.

Malfoy noticed her climbing down, but said nothing as he continued to speak quickly. As Hermione's feet touched the ground softly, she noticed that Malfoy had his wand held loosely at his side—he was relaxed and not on the defense.

"We need you back. Everyone else is too afraid of him to disobey his orders," one of the men was saying. "We're risking our lives by not bringing you to him."

"I appreciate that, Daniel," Malfoy said thoughtfully. "But, on second thought, I have an idea that will make sure you aren't harmed." He looked directly at Hermione now for the first time.

The men looked over too; one of them was the man who had rescued her from Stein when he was hurting her on the stairs, and the other was someone that Hermione did not recognize. The unfamiliar man curled his lip in disgust.

"You've let him get too powerful, and it's all this girl's fault!" he growled, his blonde mustache twitching. "He used to be content with being your second in command, but now he thinks he can lead instead of—"

"Addison!" snapped Malfoy, cutting him off. "I will not allow Mark to run my Hunters. This has little to nothing to do with the girl."

Hermione's eyes flashed at how Malfoy had referred to her. Before she could say anything, however, Malfoy continued, "However, you're right. Take her to Mark, and this will appease him for awhile. Say nothing of me. I will return to _my _Manor shortly."

Addison needed no encouragement. He whipped out his wand and sent a disarming curse flying towards Hermione, who ducked and sent her own back towards him. Daniel began slowly circling Addison and Hermione, but Hermione knocked him to the ground with a perfectly-aimed Binding curse. Addison took advantage of Hermione's distraction to abandon magic—he slammed into her with a full-bodied tackle. Hermione landed hard on the ground, Addison on top of her.

She kept her wits about her and twisted her wand awkwardly to aim, crying, "Repello!"

Addison was hurled away from her by the force of the curse. Hermione got to her feet victoriously and prepared for another curse.

She was grabbed roughly from behind, a hand pushing against the pressure point on the wrist of her wand hand. Hermione dropped her wand with a groan of pain.

"Terribly sorry," murmured Malfoy's smooth voice. _"Paralate Nerviate!" _

Hermione collapsed as the paralyzing jinx hit her, causing every nerve in her body to go limp. It seemed that the only muscle she still had control over were her eyes. Malfoy caught her carefully, cradling her in his arms, not looking at the betrayal in her eyes. As Addison approached them, Hermione felt Malfoy slip something into her pocket.

"Here," Malfoy said, passing Hermione off to Addison.

Addison slung Hermione roughly over his shoulder. "Thanks, Boss. When will we be seeing you back at the Manor?"

"Soon," Malfoy replied. He released Daniel from Hermione's binding curse.

"But how will you overthrow him if you can't use magic against—"

"I'll handle it."

Daniel dusted off his pants and joined the two of them. "She's quick," he defended himself, vengefully jabbing Hermione in the side. "Bye, Boss."

Hermione struggled against the jinx with all her mind, but her body remained still and unmoving save for the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

Malfoy looked at Hermione, his face an emotionless mask. "Take her now," he ordered.

Addison turned on the spot and Hermione felt herself being pulled uncomfortably into apparition. During the squeezing and pulling of their travel, dread coursed through the young woman, but she resolved to keep her wits about her.

They appeared in the expensively-decorated office that Hermione had visited previously. Mark was sitting behind the desk, his dirty boots on the desk as he reclined lazily. His sloppy black robes and gray pants brought into sharp relief the fact that he was nowhere near as pristine and capable a leader as Malfoy was. At the sight of Hermione and the two Hunters, he sat upright, a grin on his face.

"Well, it looks as if you brutes have actually done your job!" he called insultingly.

Hermione was dropped to the ground as Addison scowled.

"Finite Incantatem," Mark said, grinning. "You two—begone!"

Addison and Daniel gave each other identical scowls at the disrespect Mark showed them, but they left the room without another word.

With the removal of the paralyzing jinx, Hermione was able to get to her feet.

"Nice clothes," Mark sneered, eying her bloody, ripped pajamas.

Hermione flushed red but said nothing.

"That was a nice bout of deception you had going on there," Mark continued, advancing on her around the desk. He locked the door with a wave of his wand.

Hermione stood straight and tall, looking straight ahead and Mark prowled around her in an arrogant circle. Her heartbeat pounded deafeningly in her ears as she racked her brain for a way to get out of this.

"Did those idiots remember to take your wand from you?" Mark asked suspiciously, watching Hermione's hands carefully.

"Yes," Hermione spat.

"Forgive me if I don't exactly trust you." Mark smirked at Hermione as he began running his hands along her body, feeling for a wand or other weapon. Hermione seized her chance and slammed her heel down onto Mark's foot. As he howled in pain, she whirled around and punched him in the face with all her strength.

Mark clutched his face as blood began dripping from his nose. "You bitch!" he cried.

Hermione lunged for his wand and the two grappled with it. They were both yelling curses, and since the wand was being held by both people, curses and spells burst forth confusedly from the wands, flying in all directions. A jet of orange light smashed a file cabinet and sent papers flying. Hermione fought tooth and nail against Mark, but he was equally determined.

"Crucio!" Mark kept yelling, struggling to point his wand at Hermione.

Suddenly, Hermione's arm slipped and one of the Cruciatus curses struck her directly in the chest. Pain flared through her body and she cried out, falling to the ground.

Mark got to his feet laboriously, breathing hard. He glared down at Hermione, his face contorted with hate as he continued the curse. Hermione screamed as the pain sizzled throughout her body, seemingly endless. "Stop!" she begged, trying not to throw up from the agony.

Mark finally let go of the curse and grinned at Hermione as she lay limp on the ground, panting heavily.

"Now, all that's left is to kill you," he said softly, wiping the blood off his chin. "Once you're gone, my reign over the Hunters will be unchallenged! Any last words?"

Hermione struggled to her knees, ignoring the ache in her limbs. She had seen criminals like Mark before, and she hoped that if she could get him talking, it would give her more time to think of a plan to escape.

"One thing has been bugging me," Hermione mused, trying to sound offhand. "Why doesn't Malfoy's magic work against you?"

Mark's mouth widened in an elated smile. "An excellent question! It was one of my better ideas," he began, relaxing his stance. "You see, I was bullied and tortured in school as a child at Durmstrang, and I soon realized that no matter how much you think you can trust someone, you really cannot. No one can be trusted. When I learned that my childhood friend, Draco, was looking for a resident Healer for his band of Hunters, I immediately saw my opportunity to be able to use my considerable healing talents without all the fuss of working at St. Mungo's."

As he embellished his story with more and more details, Hermione was only half-listening as she desperately thought of a way out of this. She had no wand! And what had Malfoy slipped into her pocket after he betrayed her? She slowly let her hand drift to her pocket, where she closed her fingers around the small object. It was a packet of what felt like powder.

"When I began working for Draco, it was with the stipulation that he and his men made a certain promise to me," Mark explained further, now oblivious to Hermione as he gloated. "Even though Draco and I grew up together, I did not trust him; I had learned my lesson early in life. So Draco and all of the other Hunters made the Unbreakable vow that they would never use their wands against me."

Hermione's eyes widened in realization. "That's a good idea," she said, trying to flatter him. She had finally realized what the small packet of powder was—at least, she hoped that she figured it out. Her nails worked frantically to tear a tiny hole in the plastic wrapper while trying not to let him see that her hand was doing something in her pocket. "He was more loyal to you than me, though," she added, stalling for time.

Mark cocked his head, clearly interested.

"He betrayed me," she continued, allowing the anger that she truly felt to slip into her voice. "I took Addison and Daniel easily; the only reason that they kidnapped me was because Malfoy betrayed me and jinxed me."

"Is that so?" Mark exclaimed. "I always knew that he was a good boy, if rash at times. Perhaps—"

Hermione had finally managed to puncture a hole in the plastic wrapper. In a swift movement, she pulled it out of her pocket and shook it forcefully around, sending granules of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder flying into the air. The room suddenly went dark as the powder took effect, and Hermione launched herself up at where Mark had been standing. She wrenched his wand out of his hand and leapt over the desk, tucking herself into a corner.

"Damn it!" screamed Mark, running into chairs and walls as he searched for her in the blackness.

Hermione tried to keep her breathing as quiet as possible, waiting patiently for the powder to fade away. Mark was in a rage, throwing things and kicking things, but while he stormed around the room, Hermione stayed utterly still, wand at the ready. She didn't dare try a spell while it was so dark, since if she missed—which was likely—he would then know where she was.

"Okay," said Mark, breathing hard. "Listen, if you tell me where you are right now, I won't kill you when I—"

The powder suddenly faded, and Hermione leapt to her feet. Mark wasn't facing her, but he immediately turned around, just in time for Hermione's well-aimed stunner to hit him in the chest. He slumped to the ground.

"Yes," Hermione hissed in triumph, scrabbling to her feet. She quickly bound Mark with a Binding curse. "I love rich people," she muttered as she saw the fireplace in the corner of the office. Taking a hearty scoop of the Floo powder on the mantle, she tossed it in the fire and said firmly, "Ministry of Magic, Office of Harry Potter. Password: Sphinx867." The fire glowed green and then blue, accepting her password. Hermione grabbed Mark firmly and climbed into the fireplace, where they spun away into the grates.

Harry Potter was writing a statement to _The Daily Prophet_ when he heard the flames in his fireplace whoosh. Only a handful of people knew the password to his fireplace, so he did not fear attack as he stood up to greet whoever it was.

Hermione fell out of Harry's fireplace, her body aching horribly from all the rough treatment it had endured. Harry rushed over to her and helped her to her feet.

"I'm fine," she protested, shrugging off Harry's arms. She pointed to the unconscious man on the floor. "He's one of the Hunters—the leader."

Harry sprang into action, checking Mark's pulse. "This again, Hermione?" he asked, anger simmering in his tone as he looked at her with piercing green eyes.

"Harry, just believe me this time," Hermione pleaded, deciding not to even mention Malfoy. If arresting Mark would get her job back, she'd be able to pursue arresting Malfoy later. "Check his wand."

Hermione held out the Mark's wand, her brown eyes begging Harry to trust her. After a short pause, Harry took it and aimed his own wand at it, saying firmly, "Prior Incantato."

Shadowy versions of Mark's past spells burst forth from the wand: there were stunners, Dark Curses, and also, Harry observed, more than one Cruciatus Curse. As the shadows dissipated, Harry turned back to Hermione, taking in her haggard appearance as she stood before him defiantly. There was a bruise on her face, as well as many small cuts. Her hair was a mess and she looked exhausted. Her clothing was an bloody t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants with a bloody rip in one of the legs. She had clearly been through a terrifying experience.

"I suppose saying 'I'm sorry' wouldn't quite cover it," Harry said softly, his voice punctuated with regret and shame.

Hermione sighed in relief, sagging against the wall. Harry rushed to her and helped her into a chair. "Did he curse you?" Harry asked in a hushed tone.

Hermione nodded, unshed tears shining in her eyes. Hesitantly, Harry put his arms around her, and Hermione relaxed in his embrace.

"I'm so so sorry," Harry breathed, holding her tightly for the first time since Ron's death.

Hermione clutched him tightly, knowing that he was apologizing for more than one thing. They had not spent real time together in far too long, as both had been busy with their work and training. Their friendship had lapsed.

"I'm sorry, too," she whispered back, inhaling the familiar scent of her best friend. A small sound from behind them interrupted the two.

Harry immediately snapped back into Auror mode, whipping out his wand and facing the criminal Mark. The stunning charm wore off and Mark blinked a few times as he regained consciousness. He looked down at the ropes binding him tightly and immediately began pulling on them.

"What is your name?" Harry asked sternly, a look on his face that would make even the most hardened criminal flinch. Mark was no exception.

"Mark Williams," he answered immediately, cringing as Harry stood over him.

"Mark Williams, you are under arrest for using the Cruciatus Curse on an Auror, with other charges for criminal activity pending," Harry said, opening the door to his office and calling another Auror in. "Take him to Azkaban to await trial."

Once the room was empty but for Hermione and Harry, Harry turned back to Hermione and said meaningfully, "You'll need to fill out the report for him tomorrow."

A smile slowly spread across Hermione's face as she realized what Harry was saying. "I'm back on the job?"

Harry nodded, smiling as he opened a drawer in his desk and tossed Hermione her badge. "I'll have a new assignment for you tomorrow, since you completed this one admirably."

"And the next raid?" Hermione asked stubbornly, not forgetting why she had done all of this in the first place.

Harry's face tightened as he once more took in her appearance. She looked exhausted, yes, but not fragile. Her eyes burned brightly with life. "You'll be my second in the next raid," he sighed.

Hermione's face lit up. "Thanks."

"Will you please go home and get some rest now?" Harry asked, a wry smile on his face.

"I'd like that very much," Hermione admitted, looking down at her clothing. She realized that Malfoy still had her wand. Not wanting to reveal this fact to Harry, she asked him if she could use his fireplace.

"Of course," Harry said warmly. "Will you come over for dinner next weekend? It's been much too long since we've all gotten together for a pleasant dinner."

"I'll be there," replied Hermione happily, giving Harry one last hug before she stepped into his fireplace.

One dizzying Floo trip later, Hermione stepped out of her fireplace and into her apartment, already dreading what she would find. She walked into her living room, letting out a startled gasp. The place was spotless—not a trace remained of the dead Hunter that Hermione had battled. All of her bookshelves were in repaired and in order—her door was intact and looked as good as new. Grabbing a knife from the kitchen, she quietly walked around her apartment, checking for intruders. Her bathroom was empty, her kitchen was safe—the only room left to check was her bedroom.

Hermione carefully pushed the door open, knife at the ready. The room was empty, but there was a small box on the bed. She carefully slit the tape on the box and opened it gingerly. She expected a bomb, some sort of curse, a severed hand—anything but what was actually in there.

A small kitten yawned and blinked as it looked up at her. The kitten was black and brown with a white chest and paws. Hermione gasped and dropped the knife on the floor. She scooped up the kitten in her arms happily, cooing softly to it as it began to purr. Forgetting everything, she curled up in her bed with the kitten, stroking its soft fur slowly. The kitten's bright blue eyes slowly drifted closed as it fell asleep.

Hermione set the small animal gently on her pillow and eased off the bed, looking in the box to see if there was anything else. Much to her surprise, her wand was also inside the box. There was no note of any kind to explain who had sent this to her, but the last time she had seen her wand, it had been in Malfoy's hand! Had Malfoy repaired her house and left her wand, along with a kitten, knowing that she had recently lost Crookshanks? No, she decided. Malfoy wasn't that thoughtful. There must be some other explanation. But try as she might, she could think of nothing else to explain this.

As the adrenaline from capturing Mark and finding her apartment repaired wore off, she felt a sudden wave of exhaustion come over her. With the exhaustion came hunger, and she decided to eat before going to bed.

She put a pan on the stove and began buttering 2 slices of bread for grilled cheese. Before long, she was able to settle into her sofa holding a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of milk. By the time she was finished with her sandwich, she felt her eyes sliding closed of their own accord.

"Time for bed," she murmured to herself. After putting her dishes in the sink she collapsed into bed, barely having enough energy to snuggle the kitten into her arms before she fell into a deep sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

When Hermione arrived at work the next morning, she was given an enthusiastic hug from Gary before she'd even have a chance to sit down.

"Did you hear about Ractor?" he asked, sitting on the edge of her desk. He didn't wait for Hermione to answer. "He was found dead in his house two days ago—he'd broken an Unbreakable Vow! No one knows how it happened, but a lot of people think he cheated on a girlfriend he'd made the Vow to."

Hermione shook her head; she knew exactly how Ractor had died and resolved to tell Harry sometime that day. She opened up the single file that was sitting on her desk.

A black and white hand-drawn sketch of a man looked up at her. He had a narrow face and a strong chin, with short, curly hair and wide-set eyes. He looked to be in his late thirties. On the next page of the file were newspaper clippings.

"I'll talk to you later," Gary said, sounding slightly disappointed as he walked away. A young man who thrived on gossip and attention, he had quickly realized that he would find none there at the moment.

Hermione pulled out the newspaper articles and began reading. They were reports of 9 different witches who had been raped, strangled, and then been horribly disfigured with the Sectumsempra curse. _The Daily Prophet_ called him the "Surrey Slasher," as all but one of the victims had been found in Surrey. The sketch had been made by a muggle witness, whose memory had been erased shortly after.

Hermione shivered in excitement. Her first real assignment had officially begun. She began by interviewing the Healer who had examined the bodies, seeing if there had been any clues left on the murdered women.

"They were definitely all killed by the same man," the Healer, Janine, told Hermione. "The wounds all had the same pattern. They were all raped and strangled. This type of personal, vicious killing could indicate a hatred for women. The fact that they were raped was not released to the press."

Hermione swallowed hard in distaste, trying to keep her cool, Auror-appropriate exterior. Her heart clenched for the poor murdered women. "Did he leave any evidence behind?" she asked, hoping that Janine could give her somewhere to start.

"This guy is extremely meticulous," Janine said, shaking her head. "But we did find this in the pocket of his most recent victim—she was killed just yesterday, and I hadn't had time to get this to the Aurors Office yet." She held out a brightly colored circular coin. Deep purple, bright orange, and lime green colors swirled around the outside ring of the small object, and in the center was a very small moving picture of a scantily-clad woman dancing suggestively. "It's—"

"A poker chip from Merlin's Casino," Hermione murmured, taking the poker chip in shaky hands. Her first clue! "Thank you for your help," she said gratefully, leaving the woman's office.

"Hey, Hermione!" Harry called, just as Hermione was getting ready to go to Merlin's Casino to see what she could find out about the poker chip.

"Yes?" she said, looking up from her desk.

"How's it going?" he asked. His black hair looked as it always did—tousled and messy—and his green eyes looked slightly worried.

"Good," Hermione reassured him as she straightened up the quills and ink on her desk. "I'm headed to Merlin's Casino to check out a lead."

"Be safe, all right?"

"Harry…"

Harry held up a hand in defense. "I do not doubt your ability; I'm just saying that these are dangerous people."

"I'll be careful," Hermione promised. "How's Ginny?"

Harry lit up at the mention of his pregnant wife. "She's due in about two months—we're so excited. Molly has barely left our house the past two weeks, and I can tell she's hoping for a girl. But I can tell you're itching to leave, so I'll speak to you later."

Hermione watched her friend walk away and sighed. It would take nothing but time for him to finally stop worrying about her. She pushed him out of her mind, checked to make sure that her Auror badge was pinned to her black robes, and left the Auror offices. It was nearly 3 p.m. when she reached Merlin's Casino, a gaudy place lit up by thousands of fairies fluttering about the tall ceilings. The casino was not terribly busy at this hour of the day, so Hermione had no trouble finding her way around the many tables.

She asked every employee she could find if they recognized either her sketch of the criminal or the photo of the dead woman. The first few people she spoke to had noticed nothing, but Hermione had some luck when she spoke to the one of the bartenders.

"She was here two nights ago," answered the teenage boy, wiping a glass with a clean rag. He stared with morbid fascination at the picture of the dead witch. "And she was with that man!" He pointed excitedly at the sketch, looking thrilled to be able to help an Auror.

Hermione grabbed his hand swiftly, bringing her face very close to the boy's. "This woman is now dead, in case you couldn't tell by the picture," she hissed. "This is not a game. What can you tell me about them?"

The boy winced as she released his hand. "Sorry, ma'am. Uh, she was here, spent a lot of time at the Exploding Blackjack table—she came over here for a drink and that man came over. They talked for awhile and she left with him. Does that help?" he asked anxiously, looking chastised.

"It does," she replied. She looked along the bartop; it was spotless. Nothing could give her a clue as to the killer's identity. "Did they say where they were going?"

"No," the boy replied, looking crestfallen.

Hermione sighed and turned to leave.

"Wait!" called the boy, rummaging behind the bar for something. "I found this under the chair he was sitting in. It might not be his and I don't know if it'll be any help, but here." He held out a small, iron key.

"Thank you," Hermione said, taking the key from him as a smile came to her face. She left the casino after two last useless interviews with two of the waitresses.

Once back in the busy street of the wizarding village Ashville, she walked quickly to the nearest bench. She sat on a bench, feeling the warm summer breeze caress her skin. She pulled a blank piece of parchment in her pocket, set it on her lap, aimed her wand at the key, and murmured, "Originalis Locato!"

She had invented this particular spell and was in the process of completing the paperwork required to patent it so she would be able to sell it to the Department of Regulating Spells for use by all witches and wizards.

The small key grew warm and glowed red as ink began spreading across the parchment in swift, delicate lines, as if being written by an invisible hand. Hermione watched in delight as a map began to take shape. When the key grew cold, she knew that her spell had worked. Where before there had been just a piece of plain parchment, there was now a clear map, detailing the fastest route from her current location to the lock that the key fit into.

Hermione stood up, looking at the map. The place marked with an X was actually not very far from the village where she was.

Walking swiftly through the busy streets, Hermione followed the map, barely looking up. It took a mere twenty minutes of walking through the village before the map told her to take a turn down an ill-used and empty lane. She took more caution at this point, holding her wand in her right hand and the parchment in the left. The map led her down past an abandoned barn into a rather thick forest. She was now on no more than a path through the trees, squinting to read the map in the dim light that managed to reach the ground through the tree canopy.

Seeing nothing but trees around her, Hermione began to doubt the accuracy of the map when she suddenly spied a small building several hundred feet ahead. She immediately stepped off the road into the trees. She tucked the map into her pocket and began to creep up on the building from behind. It was a one-story abandoned cabin, made of rotting wood and nails.

Hermione reached what appeared to be the back door. It was locked, but she slid the key into the lock, softly unlocking it. Her wand held at the ready, she slowly pushed the door open. It slid open noiselessly, for which Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She stepped inside, looking around as fast as she could. The one-room cabin was empty.

"No," she whispered. This wasn't right. The cabin wasn't that far from civilization…if the women had screamed, someone surely would have heard them. She examined every inch of the room in the scant light that seeped through the cracks of the wooden ceiling, not wanting to light her wand. Just when she was about to give up and leave, she heard a soft thud from far under her.

Hermione dropped to her knees lightly, feeling the floor very carefully. It didn't take much exploration for her to find the trapdoor in the corner. She lifted it up as quietly as she could, revealing a flight of stone steps leading downwards. She wished desperately that she had one of her Cats-Eye potions with her so she would be able to see in the dark. Not daring to light her wand, Hermione felt her way down the steps as her eyes gradually adjusted to the near-darkness.

Once she had gone down ten steps, there was a short hallway in front of her with a door at the end. The walls around her were made of stone—if she screamed, no one would be able to hear her. She reached the only door at the end of the hallway, which was shut. She could hear someone walking around inside the room. "Go ahead—I'll follow in a minute," a low voice said. Suddenly there came two cracks of disapparation.

Without further ado, Hermione slammed open the door, yelling, "Aurors—hands up!"

The man standing alone in the center of the room turned around, wand at the ready. His blonde hair shone in the dim light.

"Malfoy!" Hermione hissed, her eyes flicking to either side of the room to make sure that the room was empty but for him. She pushed away the anger she felt at seeing him and resisted the urge to fly at him with her firsts raised. She would eventually get even with him but for now, she had a killer to worry about.

Surprise showed on Malfoy's face for just a split second before his familiar smirk took over.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Hermione whispered menacingly, aiming her wand directly at his heart.

"What are _you _doing here?" Malfoy countered, his voice low.

"This is the likely hideout of a serial killer!"

"I'm aware of that," Malfoy scoffed, his wand held at the same level that Hermione's was. Neither of them was taking any chances with the other. "I should clarify. How did _you_ find him?"

Hermione advanced on Malfoy cautiously, her eyes flashing at his insult. "I got my job back."

"I see that," was the amused reply. Malfoy moved opposite of her in a slow circle, refusing to let her get close.

"Are you the killer?"

"Blunt and to-the-point—I like that," said Malfoy easily, his grey eyes calculating.

He wasn't dressed as he usually was, in pristine expensive clothing. Rather, he was wearing dark blue jeans and a red thermal long-sleeved shirt. They fit him well, but Hermione had never seen him in casual dress before and if she hadn't been so angry, she might even have laughed at him.

"No, Granger, I am not a serial killer. I don't need to rape women to get off, nor do I—"

At the word "rape," Hermione sent a nonverbal stunner lancing across the distance between them. Malfoy tucked and rolled across the floor, barely avoiding the well-aimed charm.

"What was that for?" he hissed, getting to his feet gracefully. A quick spell through his mind was all it took for a shimmering bubble to appear around him, blocking Hermione's next two spells.

"The fact that the victims were raped was never told to the newspapers," Hermione growled, stalking over to Malfoy.

Just a few inches away from his face, Hermione put her magic aside to focus on another attack aspect of her training. Her fist slid through Malfoy's magical shield as if it was butter and struck him hard in the jaw. As Malfoy's concentration slipped, the shield fell and Hermione kicked his wand out of his hand in a smooth movement that would have made her instructors proud.

Malfoy was no pushover however, and he reacted with lightning speed, shaking off the pain in his jaw. His fist shot forward, hitting Hermione directly in the gut.

"I have contacts everywhere," he said silkily, answering her earlier question about how he had known about the rape factor. He caught his rival's shoulder as it seemed she was going to collapse. "And you hit first, so let's not be having any talk of arresting me for assault."

Hermione held her stomach in pain, leaning heavily into Malfoy's arms. She barely noticed when Malfoy took away her wand; he could really pack a punch.

"Take your time," he murmured, a twinge of concern in his tone. He'd struck her as if he would a man his size, not a smaller woman. He rubbed her back in small circles that were surprisingly gentle.

The sensation of a man being so gentle with her was extremely foreign, and Hermione felt herself getting lost in the feeling. The men that she usually encountered were ones at work who saw her as one of the guys, and the most contact she had from them was in the workout room when sparring. The last true relationship she'd had was Ron, and that had been over two years ago. Her Auror instincts warned her that this was no time to get distracted, however, and she fought to regain control.

As the worst of the pain faded, Hermione pushed free of Malfoy's grip.

"Now listen," Malfoy said, taking the hint and backing away.

"No, _you_ listen," Hermione hissed, snatching Malfoy's wand off the floor and aiming it at him with a steady hand. "I don't know how you got here and I don't really care, but this ends here. I'm arresting you."

"On what charge?" All traces of humanity were gone from Draco Malfoy's face, leaving only a cold mask of indifference. He aimed Hermione's wand at her.

"Where do I begin? Murder, kidnap—" Hermione broke off, listening hard. Silence filled the room as she cocked her head to listen carefully. Seconds later, her reaction was vindicated as she and Malfoy heard a second sound from overhead. They both snapped into action as if they had one mind. At the same time, they tossed their wands back to the proper owner and took up opposite positions on either side of the closed door.

Adrenaline coursed through Hermione's veins as she locked eyes with Malfoy. He looked utterly calm, his wand held firmly in his hand as he waited patiently for the door to open.

"Please!" cried a woman's voice from the hallway. "I have a son, please don't do this! Please!"

"He'll be better off without you," was the hoarse, guttural reply. A slap rang into the silence, followed by more sobbing.

The door kicked open and a woman was shoved inwards, falling to the ground harshly. Her red hair covered her face as she remained where she lay, her body wracked with sobs.

Then entered her abductor, who was the largest man that Hermione had ever seen. At almost seven feet tall, this monster's face perfectly matched the sketch from Hermione's file. His eyes were empty and cold as he gazed upon his victim predatorily, not even noticing Malfoy and Hermione on either side of him.

"Put your hands up!" Hermione said, keeping her voice strong as she aimed her wand up at the man. He jerked in surprise, but reacted faster than she'd thought he could. He whipped out his wand, a curse forming on his lips.

The woman shrieked and hurried into a corner.

"Stupefy!" yelled Hermione. Her spell hit the huge man, and Hermione relaxed in anticipation of his collapse. The stunner, however, was simply absorbed by the man's vast chest. The man dropped his wand with a pained grunt and punched outwards at Hermione. Hermione took the worst of the blow with her left shoulder, resisting the urge to scream from the force of it.

She stumbled backwards a step, but before she could attack him with another spell, the man's mouth opened and he began screaming. Malfoy stepped out from behind him, a cruel sneer on his lips as he tortured the man with his wand. The killer fell to the ground.

"Malfoy, stop!" screamed Hermione, rushing over to push Malfoy's wand down.

Malfoy deliberately kept his wand on the man for long seconds more before he finally released the curse. The killer slumped against the wall, his limbs twitching as he recovered from the pain of the Cruciatus Curse.

"Together," Malfoy directed, gesturing towards the criminal with his wand.

"Stupefy!" the two yelled at the same time. The killer collapsed under the influence of both stunning charms.

While Malfoy immediately got busy binding the man, Hermione walked over to the sobbing woman in the corner.

"Are you injured?" she asked softly, placing a hand on the victim's shoulder.

"No," the girl replied hoarsely, looking up. Her tearstained face wrenched at Hermione's heart, and she helped the young woman to her feet. The intended victim of the serial killer was similar to the other ones: early twenties, model-thin, red hair, skimpy clothing. She was quite pretty.

"What's your name?" Hermione inquired, pulling off her outer robes and wrapping them around the shivering girl.

"A-Angela," she whispered, getting to her feet shakily.

"You're going to be just fine," Hermione reassured her, putting her arm around the girl.

"He's ready to go," Malfoy said briskly as he approached the two of them. The man lay unconscious by the door, bound tightly and securely. "Here's his wand. I'll take _her_ home." He gave the witch a winning smile which she hesitantly returned.

"I can take you to St. Mungo's," Hermione insisted. She looked intently at the girl, who was looking less frightened by the second as she gazed at the handsome Hunter.

Angela's eyes ran over Malfoy's body slowly and she nodded. "I'll be fine with…?"

"Draco," Malfoy replied confidently, holding out a hand for her to take. Angela shrugged off Hermione's robes and handed them back. "Well, I'll see you around, Granger," he said jovially, a smirk playing about his lips.

"Count on it," the young Auror growled. Malfoy spun in a circle and disapparated with Angela. "Bastard."

Once Malfoy had departed, it was a simple matter of Apparating the bound criminal to the prisoner transport office of the Auror department.

A mere hour later, Harry's jaw dropped as Hermione dropped a file on his desk. "Case closed," she said, smiling brilliantly.

"In one day?" he asked, his green eyes wide as they scanned Hermione's neat writing. "That's—that's incredible…"

Hermione opened her mouth to ask for her next assignment, but Harry interrupted her. "What happened there?"

Hermione looked down at her shoulder where Harry was pointing. She'd forgotten to put her robes back on and as such, she was now wearing just the tank top and jeans that had been under them. The bruise from the serial killer's punch was a mottled red and purple. It ached terribly, but she'd managed to ignore it thus far.

"Oh, he got off a hit before I subdued him," Hermione said carelessly.

"Where are your robes?" Harry asked concernedly. "You know you can't make an arrest unless—"

"They got muddied up in the chase," Hermione lied, deciding on the spot to keep Malfoy to herself until she figured out what to do with him. "They're in the wash right now."

Harry nodded, accepting her answer. "Take the rest of the day off," he told her, stamping the closed file of the Surrey Slasher with his official seal. "Get that bruise healed up if you can."

"All right," Hermione agreed, turning to leave Harry's office.

"Oh, and Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Great job."

Hermione grinned and left the office. She went home and immediately sank into the bathtub, filling it with hot water. It didn't take long for her muscles to relax and for the water to take some of the ache away from her bruised shoulder.

Over the next month and a half, Hermione pursued every case she was given with all of her strength and perseverance, earning herself the nickname of "The Bulldog" because of the way she sunk her teeth into cases and didn't let go until she had solved them. She did not encounter Draco Malfoy even once during the 4 cases that she managed to close in this timeframe, and for that she was grateful. Even the arrests of the Hunters had dropped off a bit, so instead of several bound criminals received per week, there had only been two in the entire month and a half. Hermione had decided that the next time she saw Malfoy, she would have to arrest him. He had used an Unforgivable Curse in her very presence, and for that she would need to arrest him. Regardless of the fact that he had assisted her in bringing in the Surrey Slasher, he was a criminal himself, and Hermione had no choice but to uphold the law. In gratitude for his help, however, she promised herself that she would not actively pursue him. That would be the only leniency she would show him.

One day, after Hermione turned in her report on the latest criminal she had apprehended, Harry called her into his office.

"Hermione," he said, gazing absently at the picture on his desk of Ginny and their newborn baby. His face softened briefly, but then hardened again as he realized she was in front of him, waiting. "I have an assignment for you."

"An assignment?" Hermione asked curiously. "Not a case?"

"It's very important," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "I'm going to need you to go undercover."

Hermione grinned. It was about time.


	12. Chapter 12

Later that evening, Hermione lay in bed and stroked her kitten softly. She'd named the sweet little male Romeo, after the character in her favorite muggle play. "You're going to live with Ginny and Harry for a little while," she murmured. "I won't be able to come back here for awhile while I'm undercover."

Romeo purred and butted her hand with his soft head.

"Tonight's going to be my last night here for a long time," she sighed, looking up at the ceiling of the apartment she called home. Anticipation and anxiety dominated her in equal turns. Harry had offered her an undercover job on a very important assignment.

Very recently, criminals had begun using new Dark curses that had never been seen before in the Wizarding world. These spells were unnecessarily cruel and had the added ability of being immune to healing spells and potions. It was believed that they were being created by a small group of Dark Wizards and sold to the highest bidder. They had been a thorn in the Auror Department's side for nearly a month, but over the past week the influx of new curses had risen to an unprecedented level, warranting immediate action by the Aurors.

"I'm not going to lie to you," Harry had said. Worry lined every aspect of his face. "It's going to be extremely dangerous. We already lost one Auror to them; he's been in St. Mungo's for three weeks with no sign of improvement. However much it pains me to put you in danger, you're the most talented Auror I've got. This is getting extremely serious. There's an entire ward at St. Mungo's just for the victims of these incurable curses. We need to get to the head of this organization."

Hermione had immediately agreed, of course, and Harry had given her two days to make arrangements. She wouldn't be allowed to return to her apartment for the duration of her assignment, so she'd begun by paying her rent in advance for the next four months, not knowing how long she'd be gone. A room at the Leaky Cauldron was to be her temporary home. Harry and Ginny had agreed to take care of Romeo while she was gone. That was pretty much the extent of Hermione's preparations for this assignment, except for memorizing her cover story.

She was 23-year-old Brooke Locke, a member of the pureblooded Locke family. Brooke Locke was a real person, but had agreed to give some of her hair in order to make a Polyjuice Potion to assist the Aurors. The real Brooke Locke was currently in a safe house, so that no one would see two Brooke Lockes walking about. Brooke was facing a life sentence in Azkaban due to her husband's suspicious death by smothering and had made an agreement with the Aurors to reduce her sentence.

Hermione's first task was to outrageously outbid the competitors in the next curse auction and then somehow make her way into the graces of the inner circle. Her ultimate goal was to find the person who was actually creating the terrible curses.

All of Hermione's supplies were packed and waiting for her on the table. Tomorrow she would begin her dangerous assignment.

"Hermione?" Harry said tentatively, looking at the woman in front of him who did not resemble his friend in the slightest. They were meeting Hermione's rented room at The Leaky Cauldron in London.

"Of course—don't you recognize me?" replied Hermione, a nervous giggle escaping her mouth. She knew how different she looked.

She and Brooke were the same height, but there the similarity ended. Brooke had high, fine cheekbones and black, wavy hair. Her blue eyes were deep and ringed by a thin line of black eyeliner. Where Hermione was slender, with curves where they should be, Brooke was model-thin and lithe. Hermione'd had to borrow some of Brooke's clothes to make the transformation complete. She wore a see-through black mesh top over a black corset, with tight black jeans and high black boots. The only part of her ensemble that wasn't black was the silver studded belt that looped around her waist. The all-black ensemble was not something Hermione would have chosen for herself, but it was important if she was going to successfully impersonate Brooke Locke.

Harry shook off his surprise and immediately got down to business. "The black market auction is at this address." He handed Hermione a small slip of parchment. "Brooke's—I mean _your_—uncle has been in Azkaban for the last 20 years for using the Cruciatus Curse on a dog. His legacy of cruelty is the reason that you're allowed into this auction; the sellers of the Dark Curses had heard of him, so they were quick to allow you into the auction."

Hermione nodded, cringing at the thought that people would think her just as cruel as Brooke's fabled grandfather.

"They'll likely check everyone for magical surveillance devices, so you're going to be on your own for the auction," Harry said. He looked haggard and worried. He hesitated, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, you don't have to do this. Just say the word and I'll have someone else—"

"Harry, I'll be fine," Hermione interrupted him, trying to quell the nervousness fluttering about in her belly.

Harry hesitated before he said his next words. "I'm trying to be objective here," he said shakily.

"Go ahead," Hermione said softly, curious as to what he was trying to say.

"If you were any other Auror, I'd tell you that in order to preserve your cover, you shouldn't contact us unless there is an emergency and you need help," Harry muttered, his eyes down.

"Harry," sighed Hermione. "I can handle this by myself. You should treat me like the other Aurors. It'd be safer for me _not _to rendezvous with you while I'm undercover. Don't worry so much."

Harry nodded, still downcast.

"Listen to me," Hermione said, putting her finger under Harry's chin until his eyes met hers. "I'll be careful. I'll call you at the first sign of danger."

Harry pulled himself together, though worry still shone in his eyes. "You're right. I'll go back to the office. Just...be very careful, all right? And don't forget your Polyjuice Potion, or how to activate the memory spell."

"I won't."

Harry drew her into his arms for a tight embrace before he left the room without looking back.

Once he was gone, Hermione squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and looked at the slip of parchment Harry had given her. "62 Gordon Circle, 9:00 p.m." The street was a familiar one, and there was a park nearby that she could safely apparate to. A quick glance at the clock revealed that it was time for Hermione to get going, lest she be late.

Hermione closed her eyes and disapparated, concentrating on the park near Gordon Circle. She reappeared in the dark shadow of an enormous oak tree. The night was quiet as she tucked her wand in her pocket and headed toward the street where this auction was to take place. Her boots echoed unfamiliarly on the cobblestone road. Small, one-story buildings were scattered sparsely along each side. Number 62 was no different from the rest, with a heavily-graffitied door that was shut tightly.

She knocked on the door, which opened immediately. "Name?" said a tough-looking man wearing a muscle tee and black leather pants.

"Brooke Locke," Hermione said confidently, slipping into the role of her undercover self.

The man checked a scroll of parchment and then nodded. "We accept only Galleons for our merchandise. Your money must be left here and will be returned to you if necessary."

Hermione handed the man the sack of Galleons that Harry had given her.

"Thank you. Down the stairs and to the left."

"Thank you," Hermione said respectfully, walking in the direction she was told. Her heart hammered in her chest as she went down the stairs and through the door to the left.

She found herself in an amply-lit room filled with about twenty people all milling about. Chairs were set up in the center in front of a raised stage, but no one seemed to be sitting down yet. Before she got two steps into the room, she felt herself being grabbed by strong hands. Her hand went instinctively to her wand, but she didn't draw it.

"Hold still," said a man's gruff voice.

Hermione obeyed, muscles tensing, as she was patted down for listening devices. He muttered a spell that swept over Hermione like a sheen of feathers before letting her go. "You may enter."

Hermione joined the group of people inside the room, looking around discreetly. The people in the room were well-dressed and looked like they had money—Hermione recognized a few from criminal watch lists. There were mostly men, but a few women were present as well. She was half-afraid to see Malfoy there, but was extremely relieved that he was not.

The ringing of a bell suddenly pealed throughout the room, and everyone began meandering towards a seat. Hermione followed their lead and found herself a seat roughly in the middle.

A woman and a man made their way into the room and onto the stage. Dressed alluringly, the woman had everyone's attention almost immediately. Hermione, however, was focused on the man. He was tall and lean, with salt-and-pepper hair and lines on his face that put him at about age 50.

"Welcome," said the woman; her voice was rich and clear. "I'm Ariana and I'll be your host for this evening. This is August Sappington." The woman gestured briefly towards the man. "There are two items up for bid tonight. Without further ado, I will present the first item. This is the Inside-Out Curse."

The door opened and the man who had been guarding the door walked in, dragging a struggling elderly man.

"No! Let me go!" cried the man, tears dripping down his face. "Who are you?"

August waved his wand gracefully in a complex movement and with a horrible squelching noise, the man's skin ripped and literally turned inside out. Blood oozed slowly from the man, who began shrieking horribly as he fell limp on the ground.

Hermione stiffened in her chair, fighting the urge to curse August Sappington into oblivion. Tears of disgust and pity formed in her eyes, and it took all of her strength to stay in her seat.

The other members of the audience showed no reaction to the curse that had just been performed in front of them. Rather, they were actually clapping! Hermione joined in after a brief moment, fighting to keep control of her emotions.

"Shall we start the bidding at 300 Galleons?" the woman cut in, her composure flawless.

August remained silent, staring at the audience intently. Hermione could instantly see where the power lay here. August may not be the highest person in this organization, but he was certainly higher up than the woman was.

When the bidding reached 750 Galleons, Hermione cut in, her clear voice rising above the others to say coolly, "Twenty-five hundred Galleons."

A hush fell throughout the room, though soft whispers could still be heard. She'd obviously succeeded in her goal to get herself noticed.

Ariana cleared her throat. "Any other bids? No? Sold, to Brooke Locke."

The next curse was just as horrible as the first one, but Hermione stayed out of the bidding. She had reached her limit of the money that Harry had given her from the Aurors' funds. The second curse was sold for 1,000 Galleons.

Once the bidding was over, Hermione was immediately approached by Ariana. The person who had bought the other curse was approached by August and led out of the room. "Please, come this way," she said softly, exiting the room through a small door in the corner.

Hermione followed, memorizing her surroundings as she did so. "I will now take you to someone who will give you the incantation for the curse and show you how to use it," Ariana explained, leading the way through a small, poorly-lit corridor.

Ariana pushed one of the doors open and backed up to allow Hermione entrance. "Thank you for coming today. I will be back to escort you out."

Hermione moved past her and into the room. It was a very small room with nothing in it but a chair in which a man was sitting.

"No," Hermione breathed, seeing who awaited her in the room. Draco Malfoy. Hate and anger rushed through her; she had not forgotten his betrayal over a month ago. However, she realized that he had no idea who he was; she looked nothing like her real self. She changed her anger into a full-toothed smile as the door shut behind her.

Malfoy smiled and swept over to her, his long black cloak whispering behind him on the floor. "Miss Locke," he said graciously, kissing her hand softly. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Draco Malfoy. I hope you understand that this is merely a formality, since you are a new customer."

Hermione didn't even have a moment to prepare as Malfoy raised his wand and said firmly, "Legilimens."

A smooth, almost menthol sensation swept across her mind. Hermione instinctively gathered her defenses and threw up mental walls against him, breaking eye contact. With a frustrated growl, Malfoy was forced out of her mind before he could ascertain whether she was a danger or not.

"Now listen, Miss Locke," Malfoy said quietly, his voice quite deadly. "This is not an option." He took a step forward, closing the distance between the two of them.

Hermione tried to back away from him, but was stopped by the wall behind her. Malfoy was mere inches away from her now, his grey eyes coolly looking into her bright blue ones. She couldn't get to her wand without touching him, and she didn't want to get hostile just yet.

"Look, Mister…" She paused, acting like she didn't remember his name.

"Malfoy," Malfoy reminded her, his brows coming together in a frown—he was clearly unused to people not remembering his name.

"Right. We're a pureblooded family of high standing in society," she said meaningfully, trying to win him over. "If you haven't heard of me, perhaps you've heard of my father, Winfred Locke, or my grandfather—"

"Your family means nothing to me," Malfoy interrupted, sliding his hand carefully into her pocket and removing her wand. "Who your parents are shows nothing about _your_ character."

Hermione's body tensed as he took her wand; she fought the urge to attack him and get her wand back. "That's hypocrisy if I've ever heard it," she muttered, remembering all his words from Hogwarts. He'd blindly parroted his parents' beliefs, and every "Mudblood" comment was etched into her brain forever.

"Excuse me?" hissed Malfoy.

"Nothing," Hermione replied, attempting to keep the venom out of her tone. 

"As scintillating as this conversation is, enough is enough, Miss Locke," Malfoy said quietly. "Imperio!"

An intense calm flooded Hermione's mind, chasing away her fear and anger, as well as all of her thoughts and emotions. _Relax,_ she heard Malfoy's voice murmur sensually in her mind. _Let me into your mind. Do not resist. _

_Resist!_ cried a very small voice in her mind that sounded like Harry's.

"Legilimens," Malfoy said again, his eyes boring into hers.

The smooth, cooling sensation of Malfoy's mind settled over Hermione's. Some of his concentration was taken away from the overlying Imperius Curse and Harry's voice in her mind grew stronger. _Resist!_ Malfoy was drawing closer to the memory of Hermione taking the Polyjuice Potion.

With an immense effort, Hermione whispered, "Prima." A flash of heat swept through her body, making her face flush and her temperature rise slightly. The memory charm that Harry had created for her activated and Hermione felt a tingling sensation settle over her brain.

Malfoy withdrew from her mind a moment later, satisfied, and ended the Imperius Curse. "I apologize for any discomfort, but as this is a rather sensitive business, I needed to know that you are someone we can trust," Malfoy said. "Are you ready to learn your curse, Miss Locke?"

Hermione restrained her sigh of relief; the memory charm had worked and Malfoy had been fooled by the collection of the real Brooke Locke's memories that had been superimposed over her own. Since Harry had placed the charm over Hermione earlier, the word Hermione had spoken was the only thing needed to activate it; no wand was necessary, luckily. Malfoy handed her wand back.

Malfoy was her link to this group of people, but she did not think that he was the creator of the curses. Hermione was certain that if Malfoy was behind making these curses, she would have recognized at least one of his Hunters by now. She'd never seen Ariana or August before today, and the men guarding the building were unfamiliar. What Malfoy was doing here was a mystery, and the only way she'd solve it was by getting close to him.

"I am," she said, pitching her voice low and sensual.

Malfoy threw her a startled glance, a slow smile curving upon his lips as he recognized her meaning. "Then I will show you how to use it properly," he said silkily, his eyes raking over her body as he took in every detail. It was clear that he liked what he saw. Wasting no more time, he told her the incantation carefully and made her repeat it for him several times until he was satisfied that she had it correct.

"The wand movement looks like this," said Malfoy, waving his wand in a swift series of complicated movements that Hermione's sharp eyes immediately captured and memorized.

"So, like this?" she asked innocently, replicating the wand movement perfectly except for the last loop, which she purposely messed up. She didn't want to appear too talented, in case he somehow sensed something amiss.

"Close," Malfoy said, clearly impressed. He positioned himself behind Hermione, resting his left hand on her waist and pulling her close to him. His right hand settled over hers and he gently guided her wand in the correct pattern for the curse.

"Just like that," he murmured softly, his breath warm against her ear.

Pressed up against Malfoy's body, Hermione suddenly found it difficult to breathe. She could feel her heart beating faster just from being so close to him. It was in that adrenaline-infused moment that she realized something important and unbelievably shocking: she was attracted to him. She didn't like him, and she certainly didn't love him, but she did find him attractive, and her body was reacting accordingly.

However, Hermione was a well-trained and dedicated Auror. She played upon her body's reaction to Malfoy by allowing herself to inhale sharply enough for him to hear. Malfoy lightly stroked the back of her hand with his fingers in response, his other hand tightening ever so slightly on her waist. It intensified the tingling in her veins and Hermione found it difficult to stay focused. His scent drifted over her, a tempting cologne she had never smelled before.

"I really need to get going," Hermione said, her tone purposely showing how much she regretted saying this.

"Don't you want to test out your curse?" Malfoy purred. His lips actually brushed her ear as he said this, eliciting an involuntary shiver from the young woman in his arms. "I have another one I could show you—not a curse, per se, but a rather exciting little charm…"

Hermione pulled away at hearing this, leaving a surprised Draco Malfoy behind her. "The Pleasure Charm?" she said scornfully. "That's the pickup line you're using?"

Malfoy's face tinged red with embarrassment. Hermione whirled around, aiming her wand at the only chair in the room. Speaking confidently, she said the incantation for the curse Malfoy had just taught her. Her wand flew through the air seamlessly and black light shot from the tip. With the sound of ripping fabric, the cloth on the chair turned inside out, sending white stuffing flying everywhere.

Malfoy stared at her in awe while she simply smiled sweetly. "I think I've got it now. Thanks."

Malfoy seemed to be realizing that she wouldn't fall for any of his usual tricks. "You're right," he said smoothly, changing tacks. "That was an inappropriate thing for me to say. Let me make it up to you by buying you dinner."

Hermione bit her lip, thinking. Malfoy really was a womanizer; he'd barely known her ten minutes and he was already putting the moves on her. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, but like it or not, he was her ticket into this gang. As long as he didn't find out who she truly was, she could use him to get to the head of the gang and eventually arrest the whole lot of them.

Making up her mind, she met his gaze and replied with perfectly-faked sincerity, "I'd love to."

"Excellent. Since we're done here, how does a late dinner tonight sound?"

"Perfect." Since Hermione was undercover, she was not allowed to contact any of her friends or the Auror office, lest she be followed and her identity discovered. Therefore, she had no plans for that night. Malfoy wasn't her ideal companion, but the sooner she discovered the identities of the people responsible for these curses, the sooner she could go home.

"I just have a few things to take care of here and then I'll be free. Ariana will be here momentarily to escort you outside," Malfoy explained. He picked up his suit jacket, looping it over his arm as he opened the door for Hermione.

"Uh, Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione said, hanging back inside the room.

"Call me Draco," he said warmly, waiting for her to continue.

"Draco," she repeated, keeping her eyes on the floor as if she was ashamed of what she was about to say. "Can I come with you instead of waiting outside? It's late and I'd rather not be outside by myself…"

Malfoy remained silent for a moment, his grey eyes thoughtful. Then he nodded and winked. "Pretty girl like you, we wouldn't want anything bad to happen."

Hermione rolled her eyes inwardly, but the only reaction she showed Malfoy was a relieved smile.

"Follow me," he said, leaving the room ahead of her. The hallway outside the room was pitch-dark.

"Where are the lights?" Hermione asked, slightly nervous despite herself.

"All of our customers should be gone by now," Malfoy replied, his voice floating out of the darkness. "The halls are kept dark other times, since the only people allowed to be here know their way through. Don't light your wand; it's not allowed."

Hermione reached out in the dark and found Malfoy's arm. She absently noticed the muscles in his arm as he guided her down the dark hallway and up a flight of stairs. They entered a room that was thankfully lit. Three men stood in the room, deep in conversation, but they looked up as Malfoy walked in. August Sappington was one of them. There was a sharp contrast between him and his two companions. August was dressed as Malfoy was—a suit and tie with a cloak over it—while the other two were simply wearing casual robes. They looked as if they were brothers; both had brown hair, brown eyes, and similar wide-set eyes and strong jaws. August's eyes penetrated into Hermione with suspicion.

"Did Ariana not arrive to escort Miss Locke from the building?" asked August, speaking for the first time. It took all of Hermione's control not to react when she heard his voice. It sounded like an animal had attacked his vocal cords; his voice was a harsh and scratchy whisper with an undertone of menace.

"No. I haven't seen any signs of her," Draco answered coolly.

August nodded to one of the other men in the room, who left immediately. "If I could speak to you alone, Draco?"

Without waiting for an agreement from Malfoy, August gestured towards the door. "If you wouldn't mind," he said to Hermione, his tone making it quite clear that it didn't matter whether she minded or not.

Hermione glanced at Malfoy briefly, but his stony expression left her no clue as to what she could do. "Of course," she replied, walking out of the room and shutting the door behind her. Once in the dark hallway, she peered into the room through the small crack between the door and the doorframe.

August's face was angry and stern as he spoke to Malfoy, but his voice was too quiet to hear. Malfoy said something in reply, and August's face contorted with annoyance. In a swift movement, August slapped Malfoy hard across the face, the sound echoing even back to Hermione.

She gasped, muffling the sound with her hand. She waited anxiously to see what sort of curse Malfoy would use in retaliation, but to her utter shock and surprise, he took it in silence, staggering back a step. August said a few more words to Malfoy before waving his hand in an obvious dismissal. As Malfoy walked towards her, Hermione backed away from the door so it wouldn't look like she was spying. The door opened forcefully, revealing a clearly angry Draco Malfoy.

His grey eyes were cold as ice and his face was pale but for a red mark that stood out on his cheek where he'd been struck. "Let's get out of here," he growled, grabbing her arm tightly and dragging her into apparition.

They reappeared in the bar of The Leaky Cauldron, to Hermione's intense surprise. This late, there were only a few patrons in the bar.

The flash of fear that Hermione had felt when Malfoy forced her into side-along apparition faded away as she recognized their surroundings. "How dare you just—"

"August likes his strict routine. He was not pleased that I brought a customer back without his permission," Malfoy interrupted bluntly. "It was for your own safety."

"I'm pretty good at taking care of myself," Hermione said automatically. Then she remembered that she was supposed to be gaining Malfoy's trust. "But thank you," she added, a smile on her lips.

At seeing Hermione's genuine smile, Malfoy relaxed slightly, some of the anger leaving his face. "You're quite welcome. Can I buy you a drink? This bar isn't exactly my kind of place, but it's getting rather late."

"Sure," Hermione replied, following Malfoy to the bar. "I need to use the bathroom first."

Once she was in the bathroom, Hermione glanced into the mirror at her unfamiliar reflection. She fixed a few strands of hair that had gotten out of place. After checking that she was alone, she pulled the small vial of Polyjuice Potion that had been concealed in her boot. It had been nearly an hour since she had taken her last dose, so with a look of distaste, she tossed back her head and downed the potion.

"Hey," she greeted Malfoy as she headed back, sitting down next to him at the bar.

"What do you drink?" he asked, calling Tom, the bartender, over.

"Uh, I'll have a St. Clements, please," Hermione said, naming a non-alcoholic drink; she was not about to make the same mistake twice by letting alcohol impair her judgement.

"St. Clements and a gin and tonic," Malfoy told the bartender.

Tom nodded and began mixing the drinks.

"So," Malfoy said, turning to Hermione. "What drives someone like you to an auction like the one you attended tonight?"

"Someone like me?" Hermione said lightly, taking a sip of her drink. "What does that mean, pray tell?"

"You don't seem quite like the type to use—products—like what we're selling," Malfoy clarified bluntly. He downed half of his glass in a practiced swallow.

Hermione laughed lightly. "I don't see how you can know me that well by now, Draco." Her laugh let him know that she meant no offense by her comment, and her eyes gazed deeply into his.

Malfoy was intrigued by this woman. She seemed somehow familiar to him, but he couldn't quite figure out how. The way she spoke…it seemed that sometimes she was telling him the truth and other times she was acting like someone else. He always liked a challenge and was glad that someone as interesting as Brooke was his assignment.

Besides the fact that he genuinely liked her so far, this was business as well. August had been suspicious over Hermione's gross overpayment for the curse and ordered Draco to investigate. Draco's specific orders were to win her over and investigate whether or not she was a threat to them in any way. As furious as August had been that Malfoy had brought Brooke into the back of the building, the assignment still stood. If Draco ever had a hope of being trusted enough to meet the creator of the spells, he would have to work his way up the ranks by obeying August's instructions. August would pay in the end, however. No one struck a Malfoy without consequence. No one.

"Then I suppose you'll just have to tell me more about yourself, won't you?" he said softly, resting a hand on hers on the bartop.

Hermione felt her face flushing as Malfoy's hand touched hers. His skin was warm and soft; his fingers gently stroked the back of her hand as he gazed intensely into her eyes. It was no wonder he got all the girls that he did; he could be very charming when he wanted to be.

"What do you want to know?" she found herself asking.

The next hour passed without either of them noticing; they talked about nothing and everything. Malfoy asked her questions about everything from her favorite color to her career. Hermione answered his meaningless questions (favorite color, favorite food, etc) with real answers about herself, but the important questions were given with the information that she had been provided from the real Brooke Locke. Malfoy seemed genuinely interested in her responses, but was reluctant to answer any questions about himself. Hermione began glancing at the clock nervously when it neared the hour-mark when she would need to take another dose of Polyjuice Potion.

"Is there somewhere you need to be?" Malfoy asked after the third time she did this. He was on his sixth drink by this time and seemed to be finally relaxing. Their chairs were much closer by this time; his left leg was lightly resting against her right one. Malfoy pushed his hair out of his eyes, cocking his head as he waited for her response.

Hermione desperately didn't want to leave yet; she could sense that Malfoy was only one or two drinks away from totally relaxing his guard. All the same, she needed to take another dose of Polyjuice, and the rest of it was upstairs in her room. "No," she lied quickly.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"I was just wondering what time they close," was Hermione's lame reply.

"Much later than 10:45, I promise you," Malfoy quipped, flashing her a bright smile.

"Of course," she giggled, formulating a quick plan. "I have to go to the bathroom; I'll be right back."

Malfoy nodded, his usually bright eyes dulled slightly by alcohol. Hermione walked quickly into the bathroom. From there, it took her barely five minutes to apparate up to her room, take another dose of potion, put a small vial with another dose into her boot just in case, and apparate back downstairs into the bathroom.

When Hermione got back to the bar, she noticed Malfoy had another full drink in front of him. She smiled wickedly. Malfoy was about to make the same mistake that he'd yelled at her for making months ago.

"Hey," she said, putting her hand on his arm as she sat down.

Malfoy kissed her on the cheek in welcome. "This bar shines brighter with your return," he said, grinning cheekily.

Hermione had never seen him this happy and relaxed; she couldn't help but smile back. "That was remarkably cheesy," she informed him lightly as she took a sip of her drink. "So."

"Yes?" Malfoy questioned when she didn't continue.

"I just realized that you know so much about me, yet I know practically nothing about you," Hermione said, a hint of coaxing in her voice. She wished that she'd mastered Legilimency, but sadly, mind-reading had never been her strong suit.

Malfoy had reached the point of no return now, and the best part was that he didn't even seem to realize it. His face was flushed and he was blinking heavily; he was clearly intoxicated. "There's not much to tell," he answered, taking another unwise sip of his drink. "I'm Draco Malfoy, and I have a lot of money. That's all most people see, anyway. That and the fact that my father was a Death Eater."

Hermione was struck by a sudden flash of pity.

Even through his inebriation, Malfoy saw her expression and scowled. "Don't feel sorry for me. My parents love me very much, no matter what their allegiance was during the war."

"I don't feel sorry for you," Hermione murmured, watching Malfoy's face carefully. "I'm just wondering what you do for a living."

"I make sure the bad guys get what they deserve," he replied, smirking. "Like the Aurors, but I'm much more effective."

"I'm really interested in your curses," Hermione pressed, a look of admiration on her face. "Do you create them yourself?"

A look of distaste crossed Malfoy's face. "No, I don't. Not that I couldn't; I just have better things to do in my life," he justified.

"Of course you do." Hermione's heart raced. She was so close to getting the information she needed. "It's August who makes them, isn't it?"

"Definitely not," Malfoy snarled. "That fool only sells them and handles the day-to-day business. But that's quite enough about the curses, my dear. I could get into trouble for telling you our secrets."

Hermione sighed in defeat, though she made sure not to let Malfoy see it. "It's getting late," she said softly.

Malfoy misread the disappointment in her tone and thought she was disappointed about leaving. "Can I see you tomorrow?" he asked, standing up to pull her chair out for her.

Hermione smiled at his gentlemanly gesture. Who said chivalry was dead? "That would be lovely," she replied warmly.

"After all, I do still owe you dinner," Malfoy continued, smirking. He dropped a handful of Galleons on the counter of the bar. "I'll escort you home," he said as they headed for the door of The Leaky Cauldron.

"Actually, I'll be fine on my own," Hermione insisted, not wanting to give away the fact that she was staying at The Leaky Cauldron. Questions might arise as to why she was staying in a hotel room instead of a house.

"Are you sure?" Malfoy frowned.

"Quite sure," Hermione said firmly. "Thank you for a nice evening."

A charming smile graced Malfoy's lips. "The pleasure was all mine," he said, kissing Hermione's hand once more. "Shall we meet for dinner tomorrow at La Lanterna at say, 7 o'clock?"

"That sounds perfect."

"I look forward to it." There was a crack of disapparition, and then Malfoy was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

Once Malfoy had gone, Hermione apparated wearily up to her room and kicked off her boots, falling asleep nearly immediately once she climbed into bed.

Hermione didn't dream often, but when she did, they were rarely pleasant.

_She dreamed that she was staring into a mirror, but the person in the reflection was not her. It was a ravaged version of her; cold, cruel brown eyes gazed at her from a face that was hers and yet not hers. Her mouth twisted in a bitter sneer. Everything about her seemed harder, more lined. "This is what you will become," whispered a voice that sounded like hers. "This is what will follow if you never accept help, if you put duty before compassion and your head before your heart."_

Hermione tried to speak, but a crushing pressure pushed on all her limbs, trapping her speech inside of her. "No!" she tried to cry, but nothing came out. She couldn't speak—she couldn't breathe!

Hermione woke up, tears and sweat running down her face. She really couldn't breathe. Her clothes were too tight, restraining and choking her. It took her only moments to remove all of her clothing. She had forgotten to change clothes before going to bed, and when she had changed back to her own body sometime during the night, Brooke's corset was much too tight.

Shaking from the horrifying dream, Hermione put on a pair of her own pajamas and slid back into bed. She fell asleep relatively quickly and when she woke up the next morning, could not remember the dream that had disturbed her so badly.

Hermione spent the morning carefully writing down the events of the previous day in a journal that she had bought just for this purpose. Everything she had heard, done, and noticed was meticulously recorded so that she could look back on her notes for further analysis. She could not remember the nightmare that had woken her up, no matter how hard she racked her brain.

Once she had finished writing everything down, she took a long, hot shower, reveling in the feeling of being in her own body. Brooke's body was delicate and pampered; it had nothing of the stamina and muscle of Hermione's body.

Once she was showered, she reluctantly took a dose of the Polyjuice Potion, watching in the mirror as her body changed right before her eyes. After eating a quick breakfast in her room, Hermione decided she'd go back to 62 Gordon Circle for reconnaissance. That was her only lead as of yet, and it certainly wouldn't do any good to just sit around all day and do nothing until her dinner date with Malfoy. Dressed in all black (as if Brooke wore any color besides black), a few potions tucked in her boots, Hermione disapparated.

As she approached the small building where the previous night's auction had been held, Hermione cast a Disillusionment charm on herself. The day was rainy and overcast, which greatly enhanced the effect of the spell. Hermione saw very few people on the streets, and none of them even glanced at her.

Hermione had been trained well, and one of the rules that the Aurors had drummed into them was "Never use the front door." Bearing this in mind, Hermione headed around the building, watching carefully for any guards or watchmen. There were none. As she'd suspected, a small back door stood at the back of the building. The door was made of thick iron, and was shut tightly. Hermione stood outside of it for a moment, perplexed. The front door was just wood, yet this one was many times stronger. It didn't make sense.

"Alohomora," she whispered, aiming her wand at the lock on the door. With a soft click, it unlocked. Hermione carefully pushed on the door. It opened easily, making no sound. Holding her breath without realizing it, Hermione crept into the building into a dark room. She closed the door behind her, wincing at the slight thud that it made.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she quickly reached into her left boot and fumbled for the vial of potion that was there. Her fingers quickly closed around the small glass container. Once she'd gulped it down, she let out a small sigh of relief as her pupils contracted and allowed her to see more clearly in the darkness.

She was in a small, empty room. A set of stairs to her right led downwards into darkness. There were no other doors in the room; the only way she could go was down. Her wand held in front of her, she descended the stone stairwell. The stairs seemed to go on forever; the deeper she went, the more cold and damp the air felt. She finally reached the bottom, ending up in a large square room. The basement she was in was much larger than the upstairs room she had just vacated, and probably stretched the length of the building. Groans and cries met her ears. With the influence of the Cats-Eye potion, she saw cages lining the room. Every one was filled with a living creature. She couldn't see the exact forms of the prisoners; the darkness was too intense. Even her enhanced vision could not penetrate it.

As Hermione took a step forward, she realized that she was standing in a thick pool of blood. Terror and revulsion washed over her. "Lumos!" she whispered, unable to stand the darkness any longer as the fear overcame her. Her wandtip ignited and light flooded forth. Her eyes immediately located the light switch in the corner and she flipped it on, fully illuminating the room.

A waking nightmare met her eyes. The cages lining the room were filled with humans. Blood leaked steadily from nearly all of the cages, leading to a large drain in the center of the floor. A panicked gasp escaped Hermione involuntarily. There were at least thirty cages, each filled with the barely-recognizable body of a human. At her gasp, one of them looked up; Hermione realized with an icy jolt that it was the man she'd seen at the auction. The light illuminating the room reduced the effect of the Disillusionment charm to practically nothing. It barely made a difference to the man now looking at her.

"How c-could you?" the man whispered, his voice nearly silent as he spoke through bloody, inside-out lips. His brown eyes peered out of a sunken face that was nearly skeletal; he was clearly close to death.

Guilt, horror, and disgust coursed through her body in nauseating turns. She wanted to run as far away from this place as she could, but her legs refused to move. "I—I'm trying to help…" she whispered, wanting to reassure this poor tortured man, but the fear stole her voice and rendered her speechless.

The woman in the next cage had no eyes; only empty, bloody sockets. She stared blindly outwards in Hermione's direction. "Who's there?" the woman called out, voice hoarse from screaming.

At hearing Hermione's desperate hush, other people, all hideously deformed in some gruesome way, began stirring in their cages. Some called out for help, begging her to set them free, while others cried threats and promises. The cacophony grew louder, and Hermione ran from cage to cage, begging them to keep quiet. She fought hard not to vomit as she saw the effects of each curse.

As she passed the cage of a once-burly man with no eyes, ears, or mouth, she felt a vicious jerk on her arm. The man had thrust his hand through the cage and grabbed her in an iron grip; with the absence of his other senses, his sense of perception must have intensified to the point where he'd been able to grab her. Her feet slipped on the slippery ground and with a startled shriek, she fell hard, landing on her back. Her arm twisted viciously as the man held on tightly. Her wand skidded away across the floor.

"No, let go," she pleaded, tears running down her face as she struggled with the man that she had no way of communicating with. "_Please_," she cried, nausea building up in her throat as blood from the floor she was lying on soaked her back and hair. She struggled to her feet. A terrified scream built up in her throat as she saw and felt the blood dripping from the prisoner onto her. Terror consumed her and she began wrenching at her arm to get away, not even noticing when a loud _pop_ sounded from her left shoulder.

"What the hell?" hissed a powerful voice from behind her. "Finite!" The Disillusionment Charm on Hermione was deactivated, leaving Brooke's body perfectly visible.

"Malfoy," sobbed Hermione, recognizing the voice. Strong arms grabbed the prisoner's arm and swiftly broke his grip on Hermione. She stumbled backwards, hysterical sobs ripping from her chest. She clung tightly to her rescuer.

To his credit, Malfoy said nothing about the blood she was soaked in, which was getting all over him as well. He wrapped an arm around her and guided her out of the hellhole. The journey was a blur to Hermione; she dimly recalled walking up the stairs and out the heavy iron door, but she was barely conscious. The fingers of her right hand were locked around Draco Malfoy's waist, but her left arm hung uselessly by her side.

Once they exited the building, Malfoy quickly realized that Hermione was close to fainting. With a frustrated groan, he turned in a sharp circle and disapparated, taking Hermione with him. The familiar pulling force as they neared their destination alerted Hermione to the fact that they were going to Malfoy Manor, but she was past caring.

A slim man that Hermione vaguely recognized as one of the Hunters ran up to Malfoy, looking concerned. "Boss! Do you need any—"

"Hush," hissed Malfoy, guiding Hermione away from the man and through several rooms. The fact that she wasn't speaking and could barely walk was worrying him. He led her to an enormous bathroom and helped her sit on a comfortable cream-colored futon.

Hermione stared at the floor, unable to move, unable to speak, barely able to breathe. Silent tears fell from her eyes.

"Brooke," Malfoy said quietly. Hermione made no reply. He carefully eased off her outer robes, leaving her in black jeans and a black t-shirt. The blood-soaked robes were tossed into the bathtub. "Tergeo." The blood on her arms disappeared.

Malfoy repeated the charm several more times until all of the blood was out of Hermione's hair and clothes. "Brooke," he said, a little more firmly. He gave her a slight shake, unprepared for the scream she let out. Malfoy was so startled that he actually jumped.

After that one scream after Malfoy had jostled her injured shoulder, Hermione was silent again, staring at the floor. Malfoy pushed back her sleeve and saw that her left shoulder was dislocated. Black and purple bruising was already beginning to form. "This is going to hurt," he warned her, though he could tell that she barely even heard him. Grasping her shoulder firmly with one hand and her arm with the other, Malfoy swiftly jerked upwards, popping her shoulder back into place.

Though it must have caused excruciating pain, Hermione made not a sound. "Brooke!" snapped Malfoy, trying to get her to look at him.

Hermione made no reply. She could feel Malfoy take her face in his hands and look into her eyes, but there was a wall of icy terror in her brain, preventing her from speaking.

"Hermione," Malfoy said sharply.

Hearing her name finally broke through the barrier in her head. Hermione seemed to snap back to reality. "Oh Merlin," she whispered, her eyes focusing in on him. "All those people." Sobs wracked her body.

Malfoy was shocked. When he'd been sent to investigate an alarm at the place where the prisoners were hidden and had found Brooke there, he'd suspected that she wasn't who she seemed. The fact that she'd called him "Malfoy" when he'd rescued her had also been a pretty good indication. Still, to find out that he was right was a bit of a surprise, as he'd only been about 70% sure of her identity. "You have a lot of explaining to do," he stated grimly.

Hermione's eyes met his. The emotional and physical trauma she had just gone through made her face as white as a ghost. The girl in front of him was a mess; her entire body was shaking and tears streaked her face. She looked small and lost.

Malfoy realized that this had probably been the most gruesome experience of her entire life. He braced himself and sighed. "If you hit me, you're out of here," he muttered, but there was no venom in his tone. He doubted very much that she even heard him anyway. He carefully sat down beside her on the futon and put an arm around her, pulling her against his body.

Hermione needed nothing more at that point than for someone to hold her. She knew it was Draco Malfoy—potentially untrustworthy, rude, criminal Malfoy—but he was there for her. The warmth of his body took away some of the chill in her soul. He carefully brushed away her tears with the pad of his thumb; his fingers were soft and gentle. The shaking in her limbs finally began to subside.

"Why?" she whispered, still incapable of complete sentences. She wanted to ask him why people did such horrible things, how something like this could happen, how people could be this cruel.

"Money," Malfoy murmured in reply, understanding what she wanted to say.

"You?"

"No," was his firm reply.

Silence fell for a few moments, during which Hermione tried to regain her composure. Images of the mutilated and tortured prisoners kept running through her brain; she couldn't seem to shut it off. "I need to go back there and save them," she said suddenly, pulling away from Malfoy.

"Good idea," Malfoy agreed.

Hermione stared at him, not expecting him to have agreed with her.

"…If you're suicidal," he added, glaring at her.

"Malfoy, I can't just let them die!" she cried fiercely, standing up with her hands on her hips. She ignored the twinge of pain that was all that was left of her shoulder injury.

"Listen, Granger, we both want the same thing: whoever is behind this," said Malfoy, relaxing lazily on the futon. "Perhaps it's time we came clean with each other and worked together."

The two (former?) enemies locked eyes, each trying to read the other's thoughts. Hermione met Malfoy's cool eyes unblinkingly. Could she trust him?

All of a sudden, the dream she'd had the night before suddenly came back to her. The words rang in her ears: _"This is what will follow if you never accept help, if you put duty before compassion and your head before your heart."_ Was this what her dream had meant? Was she supposed to accept Malfoy's help?

"I don't trust you," she said bluntly.

Malfoy laughed. "Granger, look at yourself. You're pretending to be another person! If anyone's untrustworthy, it's you."

Hermione glanced downwards at the body that wasn't hers and thoughtfully bit her lip. "You may have a point," she said grimly. "Do you have my wand?"

"I do." Malfoy pulled her wand out of a pocket inside his coat and tossed it to her. "Before you do something foolish like attack me or try to arrest me, do remember that you're in _my _house."

Hermione rolled her eyes and aimed her wand at herself, murmuring a few words. She closed her eyes in discomfort as her body slowly shifted back to her real body. When the changes stopped, she opened her eyes to see a very interesting expression on Malfoy's face.

"Why in Merlin's name are you smirking like that?" Hermione growled, looking down at herself. "Oh."

The t-shirt that she'd put on Brooke's body had been loose-fitting and comfortable, but now it clung to her body, emphasizing her breasts. The jeans still fit, but they were a little tighter than Hermione would have preferred. Malfoy's expression was nothing short of lascivious.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "I think I like you better in your own body."

"Pervert," she growled, reaching into the bathtub for her robes. With a startled cry, she dropped them as she realized they were soaked through with blood.

"Are you all right?" Malfoy asked with some trepidation, afraid that she'd go into shock again.

"Yes," Hermione whispered, staring blankly at the robes.

Malfoy rose and put his hands on Hermione's shoulders, breaking her locked-on gaze with the robes. "We need to talk, but this is clearly not the time or place for it."

Hermione nodded, shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of the violent images that were in the forefront of her mind. It didn't help that Malfoy's shirt was spotted with blood where he'd touched her.

"Why don't you meet me at La Lantera tonight as we had planned?" Malfoy suggested.

Hermione hesitated just a moment before replying. "Okay."

"I'll have your robes cleaned and returned to you," Malfoy said, leaving no room for argument.

"Thank you so much," she sighed. Malfoy saw relief flood her features for just a moment before her guard shot up again and her familiar determined expression dominated her face.

"I'll take you back to your flat," he offered, guiding her out of the bathroom.

"Oh, I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron," she corrected, shrugging away from his grip.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. 

"We can talk about this tonight," muttered Hermione, striding ahead of Malfoy to reach the front door. With an awkward wave, she disapparated the second she made it outside.

The second Hermione made it back to her room, she sprang into action. It took mere seconds for her to remove Brooke's clothing and don a comfortable pair of jeans and a long-sleeved thermal shirt.

"Expecto Patronum!" she said, thinking back to her days at Hogwarts with Harry and Ron. Happiness flooded through her, and a silvery otter burst forth from her wand. "Harry, I need you here now," she said, sending her Patronus off to find him. She paced her room anxiously as she waited for Harry.

Doubt filled her mind; would she be jeopardizing her mission to find the person behind making these curses by launching a rescue posse to save the tortured prisoners?

"Hermione?" Harry sounded out of breath as he spoke her name the second after the loud crack that had signaled his apparition. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she assured him, hugging her friend. "I have an update for you, and you know that I wouldn't have called you if it wasn't important."

Harry nodded, taking a seat in an armchair while Hermione paced.

"They test their curses out on live humans," she said, trying not to think of their faces."I found where they keep them after they've hurt them; the people are horribly mutilated, but still alive! I want to launch a rescue mission."

Harry's jaw dropped at hearing this surprising information. "How many are there?"

"At least thirty."

Harry nodded, thoughtful. Hermione knew he wanted to run off and save them just as badly as she did, but like her, needed to think about any possible consequences. They could never forget that their ultimate goal was to bring down the monster that was creating these curses. "Have you gotten any closer to finding the creator of the curses?"

"I'm getting closer to one of their henchmen," Hermione revealed, keeping Malfoy's name a secret from Harry yet again. This time, she was doing so as a courtesy to Malfoy for saving her life once more; little by little, she felt some of her animosity towards him fading away. All the same, a part of her wanted to laugh at what she imagined Malfoy would say if he knew that she was calling him a henchman. "But I don't know who the creator is yet. I have a suspect though," she said darkly. Malfoy had called him a "fool," but she still wanted to check out August Sappington. "Have you heard the name August Sappington before?"

"No," Harry replied after thinking for a moment. "I'll look through our records when I get back though. The main question is: Is a raid going to jeopardize your cover?"

"No," Hermione said, realizing that Brooke's identity would be relatively safe. "No one knows that I found the location where the prisoners are kept." She knew that Malfoy knew, but she decided that this would be the perfect test. The second Malfoy heard about the raid of the prisoner hideout, he would know that she was behind it. If he revealed Brooke/Hermione to the rest of the gang, then he wasn't to be trusted. If not, then she would be one step closer to trusting him. There was always the danger that he would reveal her, putting her life in danger, but Hermione realized that the number of times he had saved her life truly showed that he was pretty adverse to her death.

Harry's lips were pursed and he was thinking hard. Hermione stood, tapping her fingers on the counter softly as she waited for her friend and boss to speak. She had already decided that even if Harry said no, she was still going to do everything in her power to rescue the prisoners.

"We'll raid," Harry said finally, looking Hermione in the eye.

"I'm coming with you," Hermione stated. Her eyes were hard and left no room for argument.

"Definitely not." Harry was just as determined as she. "You'll _really_ jeopardize your cover then, since we're likely to meet resistance when we break in, and if they see you there—"

"As myself, not Brooke," interrupted Hermione, holding her hand up to stop him. "There's no connection between Hermione Granger and Brooke Locke, so even if they see _me_ there, Brooke's identity will still be safe. There's really no reason for me not to go. Besides, have you forgotten your promise?"

Harry looked like he was mentally cursing himself for making the promise long ago. "All right," he finally said. "It'll take some time to get everyone ready, so we need to wait until tonight to strike."

Hermione nodded. "Thanks, Harry."

"I just hope you're ready for this," he muttered, standing up. Hermione's eyes flashed angrily but she kept quiet. "I'll need the specifics of the location to take back to the office."

Hermione grabbed a piece of parchment from the counter and returned to Harry. She touched her wand to her head briefly. When she removed it, a silvery wisp of memory clung to the tip. She gently touched the strand to the paper, which quickly absorbed it and flooded with color as a perfect image of the basement appeared.

"This is the basement at 62 Gordon Circle," she explained, professionalism entering her tone as her training kicked in. The rules of reporting to a superior officer had been drilled into her: Be Precise, Be Concise, and Be Clear. The image on the parchment was as clear as if it had been taken by a camera, but was as still and unmoving as a muggle photo. The technique used to recreate the memory of a place had that limitation. It was a wide view of the room, showing in perfect clarity the cages lining the walls, as well as the pools of blood all over the floor. "There's only one entrance to the underground part," she continued, circling it with her quill. "Around the back of the building is an iron door. Through the door and down the staircase is this basement."

Harry's green eyes followed Hermione's pen as she quickly sketched the outline of the outer building. "Any sort of guard there?"

"Not when I was there," Hermione mused, thinking carefully. "But there may be some kind of silent alarm, since I was only there for about five minutes before someone showed up. I left before I was seen, though."

"All right," Harry said. "Well, I'd better get back to the Ministry to begin planning this, then." His tone was dismissive; he was clearly upset about her wanting to go, but didn't feel like discussing it.

"Where and when will I meet you tonight?" There was a note of stubbornness in her voice. She wasn't taking any chances that Harry would leave her behind.

"The park opposite Gordon Circle, 10 p.m. We'll go over the plan briefly for you once you join us," Harry said, tucking the parchment into his pocket as he made to leave. "It's just too risky to have you at the Ministry right now when the official story is that you're on holiday."

"I understand," Hermione said. Before her undercover assignment, they had agreed that it would be a good idea for her to not live a double life: being an Auror during the day and Brooke at night could be dangerous if someone were to follow her and realize that she was playing two roles. "I'll see you tonight."

Harry had time for just one more worried glance before he disapparated.

Once Harry was gone, Hermione vented her frustration by getting out her cauldron and potions ingredients. Her potions stock hadn't been replenished for some time, and now was a perfect opportunity to do so. She preferred to make her own potions instead of buying them from an Apothecary. Besides the fact that it was cheaper to make them herself, she also liked the certainty of knowing that they were made correctly.

_I've saved his life countless times_, she recalled angrily as she began grinding up beet root for her Cats-Eye potion. Harry had become less protective as of late, but his reluctance to allow her to go on a raid was nothing short of infuriating. Hopefully, once she went on this raid, he would relax a little further and trust in her abilities to fight and defend herself.

Hermione spent the new few hours making potions that she frequently found useful. Making the potions occupied her mind and body and allowed her to put off thinking about what she would say to Malfoy that evening. Before she knew it, it was six o'clock and time for her to get ready.


	14. Chapter 14

"May I help you, miss?" said the smartly-dressed maître d, staring politely at the young woman who had just entered the busy restaurant.

"Yes, I'm supposed to meet someone here…" Hermione looked around, craning her neck to see if she could spot Malfoy anywhere. She surreptitiously slid her hand into her coat to feel the reassuring texture of her wand. The fact that this was a muggle establishment meant that she could had to be a bit more covert than she normally would have been when meeting Malfoy. If she didn't have to worry about being discovered, she might have entertained all sorts of ideas of ways she could threaten him. However… She was jolted out of her thoughts as she realized that the host had asked her a question. "Sorry?"

"What is your party's name?" the man repeated, glancing down to a sheet of paper on which names were written.

"Malfoy," replied Hermione, keeping the scorn out of her voice.

"Ah yes. Right this way, please."

The maitre d led her through the quiet dining room. The inside of the restaurant was dim, lit by simple candlelight. Waiters in tuxedos moved gracefully through the romantic establishment. Most of the people there were couples, though Hermione did see one man sitting alone, facing the window, looking out almost desolately as he listlessly ate his food.

Before they got halfway across the room, Hermione could see where they were heading. Malfoy caught her eye as he sat at a corner table near the restrooms.

"I see him," Hermione said, placing a hand on the man's shoulder to halt him. "Thanks."

The host gave her a strange look but shrugged and headed back to the front of the restaurant to resume his place.

Malfoy's mouth twisted in an expression of distaste as he took in her appearance. Hermione smirked as she sat down. "Is there a problem?" she asked sweetly, shrugging off her jacket. She made sure that it was in her lap so that she could get to her wand easily.

"Besides the fact that you're twenty minutes late? Yes, there is," Malfoy retorted. "Why do you insist on this ridiculous façade? I already know who you are."

Hermione looked down at herself with a smirk. She was once more in Brooke's body and was wearing a short black dress that clung to her body. It wasn't something she would choose to wear, but this dress was the nicest garment that Brooke owned, and it wouldn't do to wear jeans to a restaurant like La Lanterna.

"I thought you liked women in tight clothes, Malfoy," she said lightly, meeting his gaze.

"I like women with actual curves," he muttered, rolling his eyes. He looked rather attractive in a well-fitting black suit. His cuffs were trimmed with shining silver thread, and he wore a silver ring on his right hand that bore his family crest. His hands, casually clasped together on the table in front of him, showed evidence of perfectly manicured nails. Surprisingly, the effect was one of aristocracy rather than femininity. Only a Malfoy could pull it off.

"That didn't seem to bother you before," purred Hermione, thoroughly enjoying herself. It was surprisingly easy to slip back into the pattern of behavior they'd had at Hogwarts, one of teasing and mockery.

"I needed to get close to you before to ascertain whether or not you were a threat. Nothing more, nothing less," said Malfoy coldly. He did not look amused, so Hermione sighed and dropped the act.

"I'm Brooke tonight because if anyone were to follow you here, it wouldn't exactly be good for whatever you're doing if you're seen having dinner with an Auror, now would it?"

Malfoy glared at her, but he couldn't refute her logic. "Very well," he drawled. "Now, would you care to explain to me what the hell you're trying to get yourself into with this Brooke business?"

"Before we start spewing our innermost secrets to each other, how do I know that I can trust you?" Hermione said warily. "Maybe you've forgotten, but I seem to recall you betraying me to Mark in order to save your pathetic skin."

A flash of anger crossed Malfoy's face, but he remained calm. "Did you or did you not get your job back?"

"I did, but that's not the point—"

"Then you're welcome."

Before Hermione could reply heatedly, a well-dressed young man with an easy smile approached their table. "Welcome to La Lanterna," he began, saying the words as if they'd been well-rehearsed and said a thousand times. "I'm Jacob and I'll be your server this evening. Can I get you two something to drink?"

"Wine," Malfoy said, before Hermione could say anything. "For both of us. Is that all right, darling?"

His eyes danced with a mix of mockery and malice. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Yes, sugarplum—that's perfect." It was Malfoy's turn to flush as the waiter nodded and walked away, hiding a smile.

"'Sugarplum?'" Malfoy said disgustedly once Jacob was gone.

"'Darling?'" Hermione replied in kind.

"If you call all your boyfriends that, no wonder you're single," he said, shaking his head. He had meant it mostly as a joke, but saw Hermione's face fall terribly. "Oh bloody hell."

Before he could try to apologize, Hermione's guard flew back up and she fired off a question at him, forcing herself to put Ron out of her mind for the moment. "What are you doing working for those people?"

"The same thing that I assume you are; I want the bastard responsible." Malfoy looked her dead in the eye; he was telling the truth. He still felt a bit guilty for the boyfriend comment, but plowed ahead anyway. "Now spill it."

Hermione sighed. "I'm undercover for the Aurors. I'm trying to get into the ranks of these monsters," she murmured, looking around to make sure that no one could hear her. It was unlikely that they would be overheard, however, as the couple nearest them was deeply involved in their conversation as they held hands lovingly across the table. "I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron so that no one can follow me and realize that I'm an Auror if I go straight back to my flat."

"How did you fool my Legilimency?" Malfoy asked, leaning towards her. It was clear from the intensity of his gaze that he was extremely curious to know how she had bested him.

"Brooke's memories implanted in a Memory Charm," she said, a hint of gloating in her voice. "Clever, isn't it?"

"Perhaps," Malfoy said noncommittally.

"That's why the Hunters have brought in so few criminals over the past month," Hermione realized suddenly. "You've been busy infiltrating this gang."

A smirk played on Malfoy's lips. "Guess you lot have had to actually do your jobs for yourself, haven't you? Must be tough."

"The Aurors did just fine before you, and they'll do just fine once I've arrested you," Hermione blurted out defensively.

"Ah, so there it is, Granger," Malfoy growled. "Going to arrest me once I've helped you get your bloody curse maker? I'm afraid we're going to have to make some kind of deal before I'll even consider working with you."

"You used the Imperius Curse on me," hissed Hermione quietly, leaning towards him so as not to be overheard. "You've used the Cruciatus curse in front of me! How can I _not _arrest you?"

"Then I suppose you'll need to decide what's more important to you," Malfoy said offhandedly, as if he didn't care whether she arrested him or not. What Hermione didn't know was that he was gripping his wand very tightly on his lap, ready to attack if she tried something. "Arresting me, or actually doing some good by arresting real criminals."

Hermione huffed angrily and grabbed her menu in an attempt to avoid his gaze. Using it as a shield between the two of them, she closed her eyes tightly and tried to think. Like it or not, she needed him. He was her link to the curse maker. Without him, who knew how long it would take for her to actually find out who it was?

"Are you ready to order?" their waiter said, returning with two glasses of red wine.

Malfoy looked at her questioningly, and Hermione nodded. "I'll have the chicken piccata," she said, naming the first item that she saw on the menu. She paid no attention while Malfoy ordered. Instead, she finally came across a compromise in her head. "Listen," she said once the waiter had gone. "If you help me catch whoever's making these curses, I won't arrest you. And I'll stay off your back as long as you don't use any Unforgivable Curses either on me or in front of me. But if I see you use even one, I'm going to have to arrest you."

Malfoy swirled his wine thoughtfully and took a sip. "I suppose that is an acceptable compromise," he acquiesced finally.

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Malfoy was making himself very busy with examining the tablecloth while Hermione merely gazed around the room as she tried to get up the courage to say something that needed to be said. "I also wanted to say…thanks," she said quietly, trying not to look Malfoy in the eyes. He looked at her quizzically. "For helping me out today, and any other times that I haven't thanked you for. But especially today. I was a real mess today."

She expected Malfoy to make a rude comment or to insult her in some way. She expected him to be condescending and snotty. Instead, he reached across the table and lightly touched her hand, saying quietly, "You're welcome."

Dazed with shock, Hermione froze. Malfoy removed his hand seconds later, a flush tingeing his cheeks. "So…" he murmured. "We should probably talk about how we're going to do the whole working-together thing."

The tension between them vanished as they began to talk strategy. By the time that Jacob brought their food to the table, they had agreed that Malfoy would attempt to speak to August about getting Hermione a job there. With both of them infiltrating the gang, they would have twice the opportunity to find out valuable information that could lead to the identity of the curse maker. "After all," Malfoy said with a smirk, "Ariana doesn't work there anymore, so there's a job opening."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, not understanding his smirk. She took a bite of her chicken, which was absolutely delicious.

"August had her silenced for not returning to get you on time."

"Silenced?"

"Memory modified and sent to another country with no recollection of who she is," Malfoy clarified. "Seeing as she kept trying to find excuses to get into my pants, I can't say that I'm quite sorry."

"That's horrible," Hermione gasped, thinking of the poor girl wandering a strange country with no memory. "And surely you're not serious about not wanting her advances. She was very lovely."

"Looks aren't everything, Granger," Malfoy informed her, taking a sip of wine.

The hypocrisy of this statement made Hermione nearly choke on her food. "Malfoy, you hit on a girl 2 minutes after she was almost raped and murdered," she pointed out in disbelief. "Remember the Surrey Slasher?"

"That? I only needed her to come with me so that I could erase her memory of me," Malfoy explained calmly. "It generally doesn't make sense for me to allow her to remember that the Auror who rescued her was assisted by a man who Crucio'd her attacker!"

Hermione fell silent, thinking. A strange sense of relief went through her at hearing this explanation. Before she could figure out the reasoning behind that relief, a man walking by the table suddenly did a double take and approached her. It was the man that she had noticed earlier eating alone.

The tall, slender man had large blue eyes and jet-black, curly hair, but Hermione only had a second to notice this before he suddenly grabbed her by her shoulders and yelled in her face, "Brooke? Why the _hell_ haven't you been returning my owls? And who is this? You're cheating on me?"

With a jolt, Hermione realized that she recognized him. She had seen his photograph in Brooke's file. The man was Roger Belfour, Brooke's boyfriend. The real Brooke had been given permission by the Aurors to tell her boyfriend and family members what was going on, but it appeared that she hadn't told Roger for some reason. Perhaps Brooke had seen this as an opportunity to end the relationship by disappearing entirely. For whatever reason, it had now become Hermione's problem.

Before she could say anything to try to diffuse his anger, Roger turned to Malfoy, who was halfway out of his chair by this time, and without any warning whatsoever, punched the blonde wizard full in the face. Caught by surprise, Malfoy didn't have time to defend himself. He fell hard, his right arm hitting the solid wood table on the way down with a vicious crack. A woman at a nearby table shrieked and clutched her date fearfully. The infuriated young man had time for only one hard kick to Malfoy's ribs before two of the busboys grabbed him and held him back.

"What is going on here?" asked the manager of the restaurant, rushing over to help Malfoy up.

"She's a lying whore!" Roger spat, pointing at Hermione while he struggled against the busboys.

"Get him out of here!" the manager ordered frantically. The two busboys quickly dragged Roger towards the back door. The manager turned his attention to Malfoy, a frightened expression on his face as he realized what this could do to his business. Malfoy's lip was split and bleeding, his right arm hung at an awkward angle, and his face was deathly white. "Call an ambulance," the manager said urgently, helping Malfoy to sit down in his chair.

Hermione stared in shock, completely flabbergasted by the whole event. She could heal him magically, but obviously not in front of all these muggles. She knew that the ambulance was wholly unnecessary and probably frightening to the pureblooded Draco Malfoy.

Though wounded, Malfoy reacted faster than her to refuse muggle medical care. "No, I'm fine," he gritted out, wiping the blood from his mouth with his sleeve. "It's just her jealous ex—he won't leave her alone."

"Do you want us to call the police, sir?" asked the manager anxiously.

"It's fine. Can we just get the bill, please?" Malfoy's voice was hard with irritation as he spoke through his pain. Blood streaked his teeth as his lip continued to bleed freely.

"Oh, no, it's on the house, sir. I apologize for the whole thing," the manager said, beads of sweat on his forehead. He was clearly terrified that they would sue.

"Not a problem," Hermione cut in, finally finding her voice. "I'm just going to get him home now." She reached down and grabbed Malfoy's jacket, covertly recovering his wand as well, which had fallen to the floor in all of the confusion.

Malfoy got to his feet slowly and Hermione pulled his good arm over her shoulder, supporting him as they made their way to the exit. Malfoy's breathing was shallow and pained and Hermione could feel him sweating through his clothes. The restaurant was dead silent; every eye watched the pair. The manager hovered over them the entire way, making apology after apology. Once they were finally outside on the busy street, Hermione guided Malfoy to the parking lot around back, which was much less crowded.

"Over here," she said, pulling him behind a parked car so she could assess the damage. Malfoy sank to the ground, a soft groan escaping him. It was the only sound of pain that he made. Agony glazed his grey eyes. Proud, untouchable, impeccable Draco Malfoy was nearly fainting right before her, but gloating was the last thing on Hermione's mind.

The sun had already set; only a slight amount of light filtered down from the streetlights to illuminate the parking lot. The ground, still damp from the earlier rain, dug into Hermione's bare knees as she knelt in front of Malfoy. "Where are you hurt?" she asked; there was no way that his mouth was the injury causing him this much pain.

"Arm," he breathed, his eyes fluttering closed. He was still conscious, but only barely. His head lolled back against the shiny black Lexus behind him.

Due to the fact that he was wearing a long-sleeved black dress shirt, Hermione was unable to tell where he'd hurt his arm. She remembered hearing a cracking sound when his arm had hit the table, but she needed to be able to see how bad the break was before she could even hope to magically heal it.

"I have to take off your shirt," Hermione realized out loud.

"Fine," was the gasped response.

Hermione swiftly unbuttoned Malfoy's shirt. His lean, muscled abdomen rose and fell with his pained breaths. A large bruise was already starting to form on his side where he had been kicked. She gently ran her fingers over the area, feeling for any broken ribs. There were none, so she left the bruise to be healed later. Using the utmost care, Hermione eased Malfoy's unhurt left arm out of the shirt. "Lean forward a bit," she directed.

Malfoy slowly leaned forward slightly, his eyes flickering open. Hermione slid his shirt off his back and over to his right side. The only part of it that was still on was his right sleeve.

"This might hurt," she warned him. As gently as she could, she began easing his hurt arm out of the shirt.

An agonized moan slipped from Malfoy's mouth. "Stop," he panted, his eyes locked on hers.

"Malfoy, I'm sorry…if I had scissors or a knife I could cut your shirt off, but I don't!" she explained, cringing. "Your sleeve is covering the break…"

She didn't want to cause him pain. He looked so vulnerable for one of the few times she'd ever seen. He was completely at her mercy, yet for some reason, not a thought of revenge crossed her mind. She simply wanted to stop his pain. Her mind raced; she couldn't leave him here while she found scissors. She couldn't use her wand to cut the shirt off because she was afraid she might slip and accidentally cut him. She couldn't summon scissors with her wand because they were in a muggle part of town and if muggles saw a pair of scissors floating through the air, there would be a lot of questions to answer. The only other solution was Apparating, but who knows the pain that would put him through.

"Just apparate," whispered Malfoy, almost as if he'd read her mind.

"That's going to—"

"Please." His voice was full of pain and determination. Hearing him nearly beg made Hermione feel so awkward and out of place that she did not protest. This was way out of her comfort zone; Malfoy depending on her and begging her was an extremely foreign experience.

She slid an arm around Malfoy's waist and stood up, helping him stand with her. "Hold on," she warned him, imagining how badly this would probably hurt him. Concentrating on her room at the Leaky Cauldron and holding Malfoy's unhurt hand tightly, Hermione turned on the spot and pulled the both of them into apparation. The last sound that she heard—almost synchronized with the crack of disapparation—was a hoarse scream that had to have some from Malfoy. The squeezing and pushing sensation of apparation had to excruciating. Sympathy led her to tighten her grip on Malfoy's hand reassuringly as the feeling of compression intensified.

With a loud crack, they reappeared in Hermione's rented room at the Leaky Cauldron. Malfoy's body weighed heavily against her; he had passed out from the pain of having the intense pressure of apparation put on his broken arm. Hermione managed to get him into a semi-sitting position in the same armchair that Harry had sat in earlier that day.

Before she could begin examining his arm, she felt an uncomfortable tightening sensation in her body as the Polyjuice Potion wore off. "Damn," she cursed, angry at the interruption. It surprised her how worried she was about Malfoy. It took her only a minute to hurry to her suitcase and grab some of her own clothes. Once she was herself again and comfortably dressed, she retrieved her potions stock and a pair of scissors from the counter and went back to the unconscious Malfoy.

She gently slid the scissors under the expensive fabric of Malfoy's shirtsleeve and cut the sleeve in a smooth movement, removing his shirt entirely. When his arm was revealed, Hermione drew in a startled breath. It was one of the worst breaks she had ever seen. It was an open fracture; the bone had broken right through the skin. Blood was pooling around the stark white bone that protruded nearly two inches from his skin.

Hermione hesitated, considering whether she should take him to St. Mungo's or not. She'd had the mandatory field medicine training that all Aurors were required to complete, plus a few extra courses over the summer, but surely Malfoy would be better off at the hospital. Then again, she couldn't really take him there herself; it would look extremely bad for them both if Draco Malfoy showed up at St. Mungo's with an Auror who was supposed to be in another country on vacation…

Malfoy opened his eyes suddenly and looked directly at her. He gritted his teeth in pain but didn't make a sound. The involuntary shaking of his body was the only thing that gave him away.

"Malfoy," Hermione said urgently, eager to have him make this decision for her. "Do you want me to take you to St. Mungo's or try to heal you here?"

"Here," he muttered, all of his energy focused on bearing the pain. His eyes flicked down to his arm and he visibly blanched. "Bloody hell."

Hermione nodded and dug through her potions bag to find a small red one. "This will clean the wound," she informed him, unstoppering the bottle and pouring it carefully around the exposed bone.

Malfoy hissed through his teeth at the burning sensation.

"Gloverus," said Hermione; sanitized latex gloves appeared on her hands. "I need to set the bones straight or they won't heal right and you won't regain full use of your arm."

"Just do it."

"Reparo Osteo!" she cried, watching his arm intently.

With a horrific scraping noise, the bones in Malfoy's arm moved back to their proper place. A strangled cry escaped him and his eyes rolled back into his head from the pain as he passed out again. Hermione quickly held his arm in place with her left hand and aimed her wand at it, saying carefully, _"Fusus."_ The bones began fusing together, the process going by much more quickly than it would have in the Muggle world. Hermione spoke another spell and the puncture wound that had been caused by the protruding bone shrank and healed, leaving only a faint mark.

"Ferula." A splint and bandages wrapped around Malfoy's arm, stabilizing it until the fusing of the bones had completed. It would take about twelve hours.

Exhausted and still worried, Hermione moved to Malfoy's face. The cheek and left side of his face were slightly swollen, so a quick spell took care of that. She gently parted his lips with her fingers, examining his teeth and the inside of his lips. One of his teeth had been knocked loose by Roger's blow, and numerous cuts bled on his inner mouth. Hermione fixed his tooth and healed the cuts, trying to push away the guilt she felt.

This really was her fault, she reflected as she flicked her wand to heal the bruise on Malfoy's side. She should have checked to make sure that Brooke had informed the proper people about her situation. It was her fault that Malfoy had been attacked for no reason by a deranged boyfriend that neither of them knew.

Hermione was distracted from her thoughts by a soft moan from Malfoy as he came back to consciousness. He looked dazed and confused; he would still be in a lot of pain as his arm continued healing slowly.

"Hey, don't move your arm," she said quickly, taking the stopper off of a vial of purple potion. "Drink this."

Malfoy ran his tongue over his teeth experimentally, feeling them all perfectly in place once more. He grasped the potion unsteadily with his left hand and drank it quickly, grimacing at the taste. Almost immediately, relief spread across his face, relaxing his tense features. He smiled slowly. "That's the best pain potion I've ever had," he slurred, his eyes closing as a peaceful expression took over.

"You're going to be dizzy and sleepy for awhile," Hermione said, making sure she spoke slowly and loudly. "You'll be more comfortable in the bed."

"I've been waiting for you to say that, Granger." He smirked as he opened his eyes and struggled to his feet. "Oh, shut up," she replied, but there was no anger in her tone as she steadied him and helped him make his way across the room and into the bedroom.

Malfoy carefully eased himself into the bed while Hermione made sure he didn't move his arm more than necessary. He was shirtless, but the room was warm and he protested when she tried to pull the covers over him.

"Your arm needs to stay perfectly still for the next 12 hours," she informed him sternly.

Malfoy's eyes opened and shut slowly a few times; he tried to stay awake but the potion was too strong. "Thanks," he sighed before succumbing to the powerful pain potion.

Hermione knew he would be dead asleep for at least the entire night. She reluctantly shut off the lights and headed out into the main part of her suite to put her potions away.

A brisk tapping on the door interrupted Hermione just as she finished disposing of the empty potion bottles and packing the full ones carefully in their case. Holding her wand loosely at her side, she cautiously approached the door, calling out, "Who is it?"

"It's Tom, Miss Locke," was the reply. "A letter was just delivered for you."

"Er, I'm not dressed," lied Hermione. "Just slip it under the door, please." It would be rather awkward to explain if she were to open the door as Hermione Granger when the room was registered to Brooke Locke—especially because Tom knew Hermione quite well.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Tom, doing as he was told. "Have a good evening."

Hermione opened the letter swiftly, noticing the hastily-scrawled "Brooke" on the outside. The writing inside was messy, as if it had been written in a huge hurry, but it was still very familiar.

_Brooke,_

_My wife is in labor so I can't make it tonight. _

_My friends will still meet you tonight for tea at the time and place we discussed. You'll have to lead them to our other friend's house since I can't. Be careful when you go to our other friend's house though; you know how they can get a little carried away._

_Love Always,_

_Roonil Wazlib_

Hermione grinned as she read the name Harry had chosen to use as his alias, but her amusement quickly faded. Nervousness fluttered in her stomach. Ginny was in labor, which meant that Hermione would have to lead the Aurors on a raid of the hideout in order to rescue the prisoners. She had never even been on a raid before, much less led one. "I can do this," she told herself, glancing at the time and realizing that she had a little under an hour before she had to leave to meet the other Aurors.

Hermione spent her remaining time planning out what she would do and getting ready to leave. She left a note on the nightstand next to the still-sleeping Malfoy to let him know where she'd gone, just in case he woke up while she was goneThe potion she'd given him was strong enough to keep him asleep for the twelve hours needed for his healing to complete, so there would be no danger of him waking up early and coming after her. Taking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves, Hermione apparated to the park near Gordon Circle.


	15. Chapter 15

The night was dark and cool. An owl hooted off in the distance, its haunting sound sending mice scurrying fearfully into their holes. The tall trees in the park swayed gently in the breeze. Everything was peaceful and ordinary, nothing out of place. Everything except for the group of seven black-robed Aurors gathered beneath an enormous oak tree, wands out and at the ready as they waited for their leader to arrive.

"Hermione!" one of them greeted her excitedly in a whisper. Gary's eyes sparkled with excitement.

Hermione strode up to the others, her black robes swirling around her. The shiny silver of her Auror badge was very visible in the darkness, though the rest of her blended in perfectly.

"Say your names aloud softly," Hermione ordered, joining the group. She couldn't see their faces and it was too dangerous to light their wands.

"Gary."

"Neville."

"Dawlish."

"Shacklebolt," said the deep, familiar voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt. His voice had a calming effect on anyone who heard him, and he was also a very talented Auror; Hermione felt more confident knowing that he was with them.

"Tonks."

Hermione had to hold back a squeal of delight that her friend of old was present as well.

The other two Aurors were ones that Hermione knew by sight, but hadn't spoken to very often in her career as of yet. Harry's protectiveness was clearly showing; sending Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks along on this raid was a gift indeed. The two normally worked high-profile cases—it was highly unusual for them to be assigned to a common raid. Nevertheless, she was extremely grateful.

"Did Harry go over the structure of the building with you?" Hermione asked softly, once introductions had been made. Soft murmurs of assent answered her. "Good."

"Oh!" Gary exclaimed softly. "Here—we each have 10."

Hermione took what felt like a handful of bottle caps from Gary's outstretched hands.

"They're Portkeys that go straight to St. Mungo's," Gary explained as Hermione put them into her pockets.

"What's the activation word?" Hermione asked, cutting through Gary's explanation. She knew what these were and who they were for. A special ward of St. Mungo's was put on alert for these sorts of raids. Healers would be standing by, waiting for the injured people to arrive through Portkey. All Hermione would need to do was hand one of them to one of the injured prisoners, say the activation word, and then the person would be swept away to St. Mungo's for rescue and treatment.

"Fortune," replied Tonks. Her hair was dark brown that night, blending in with the darkness.

Hermione gave a few more instructions to the Aurors regarding formation and tasks once they entered the building, and before five minutes had passed, they were ready to raid.

The eight Aurors approached 62 Gordon Circle from four different directions in groups of two, moving silently and stealthily in the darkness.

They all wore the standard uniform for night raiding: comfortable black pants, sturdy tennis shoes, and a black shirt with the silver Auror insignia embroidered over the heart. On top of the black shirts was a thin, brick-red vest that was imbued with curse-repelling magic. It would completely stop most curses and jinxes once or twice, but against the Unforgivable Curses it would only lessen the blow. Over their clothes, the Aurors all wore the standard black robes with their badges on it. These robes were altered slightly from ones that were usually worn by Aurors. Instead of buttoning up the front, these robes attached at the throat with a clasp so that they could be easily and quickly removed in order to not trip up the Aurors in the event of a chase or physical skirmish.

All eight Aurors met by the iron door at roughly the same time, quiet but for their light breathing. Hermione unlocked the door with a wave of her wand and pushed it open slowly, entering the room.

The Aurors followed close behind, quickly ascertaining that the small entry room was empty. A dim light shone from the stairwell, which was quite unlike the darkness that Hermione had encountered on her last trip there. Someone could be down there. Without hesitation, Hermione led the way downstairs, her wand held at the ready. The other Aurors followed her lead. Hermione was first, Shacklebolt was last, and everyone else was between them, with Tonks directly behind Hermione.

Hermione descended the steps slowly and softly, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. Through the commotion of the prisoners below, she could hear a voice speaking the same words over and over, sounding rather bored. It took her a few more steps before she recognized the words. "Avada Kedavra," the male voice said again.

Adrenaline fired through her veins and she took the last five steps at a run, calling out firmly, "Aurors from the Ministry of Magic! Drop your wand!"

The first ten or so occupants of the cages lay still on the floor, clearly dead. They were being systematically exterminated by three men dressed in casual muggle clothes. Hermione immediately waved her wand in a swift, artful pattern and spoke the incantation for the anti-apparation spell. In the time it took her to do so, one of the men had thrown a handful of black powder into the air, another had sent a flapping bat Patronus out the window, and the third sent a green streak of light directly at Hermione.

Moving quickly, Tonks blocked the killing curse as Hermione finished the anti-apparition spell. The Peruvian Instant-Darkness Powder thrown by one of the men instantly sucked all of the light out of the room.

The entire basement was completely black; the only area still illuminated was the staircase, but Hermione and the other Aurors knew that it made them a perfect target if they remained there.

"Kingsley, clear this up!" Hermione shouted, trusting the more experienced Auror to know a trick for dissolving the powder. Footsteps in the stairwell behind them made Hermione turn. No less than 6 men were hurrying down the stairs towards them. "Forward!" snapped Hermione, plunging into the darkness. The other Aurors followed her into the darkness, fanning out to present a less obvious target.

The darkness was absolute as it pressed in on Hermione. She heard cries of curses, but she herself remained silent, knowing she was just as likely to hit one of her Aurors as her enemies.

A clear map of the basement in her head, she crept cautiously to where the cages began, unlocking the first one with her wand. The door slid open, the soft creak masked by a particularly loud killing curse. The danger of the situation pressed in on Hermione, quickening her heartbeat.

Working quickly, Hermione thrust her hand into the cage, fumbling for the hand of its occupant. Thick blood oozed over her hand as another hand found hers and gripped hard. "Here," she hissed amongst all of the commotion, slipping one of her bottle caps into the prisoner's hand. "Fortune!" A soft whoosh signaled the departure of the prisoner. All of this had taken less than thirty seconds.

"Disperso!" boomed Kingsley's voice above all of the others. The darkness in the air seemed to fly out the window, allowing everyone in the room to see with perfect clarity.

She and the other seven Aurors were trapped between the six men on the stairs and the three men across the room. The walls were pitted and cracked where curses had hit them, but all of the Aurors and the criminals looked to be unharmed. Silence fell, each group evaluating the other.

Realizing they were outnumbered, Hermione knew they would have to disarm and subdue the criminals before focusing on the rescue of the prisoners. She quickly joined the others, forming a line in the center of the room. Hermione, Tonks, and Gary faced the group of three, while the other five Aurors faced the six men at the bottom of the stairs.

"If you put down your wands now, we can work out some kind of deal," Hermione said loudly, hoping her voice was calm. She recognized three of the men from the night before. One of them was the one who had let her into the building, and the other two were the brothers that she had seen with August. August Sappington himself, however, was absent.

"Not bloody likely," growled one of the brothers. "Incarcerous!"

"Protego!" Hermione rapped out, blocking the spell. The room burst into sound as everyone began attacking. Tonks was hit almost immediately with a curse that sent blood spattering across Hermione's face.

"I'm hit," groaned the woman, falling to her knees as she clutched her arm. She struggled to continue firing off spells at the criminals.

Without pausing in her attacks, Hermione yelled, "Leave, Tonks!"

"Sorry, Hermione," Tonks gasped. "Fortune!" Her bottle cap Portkey quickly whisked her away to St. Mungo's.

The two brothers were deadly, working together seamlessly as they bore down on Hermione. Their Irish accents lilted through the air as they sent curse after curse at her. Gary had his hands full battling the other man, a tall, burly blonde with thick muscles in his arms. Behind Hermione, Kingsley and the other Aurors used all of their expertise against their group of criminals. She wanted to turn around to see how they were doing, but the constant curses flying at her from the brothers made it much too risky.

Hermione soon became aware that the group of six men was advancing on the Aurors, forcing them towards the other group. Kingsley's broad back pressed up against hers as he retreated slightly. It was all the Aurors could do to defend themselves against the onslaught of attacks. They were barely able to attack, so preoccupied were they with defending. It was nine against seven, which was quite unfavorable odds for the Aurors.

"Spread out!" ordered Hermione, not wanting them to be trapped between two groups of hostiles.

But as they tried to spread out, curses hit the ground on either side, preventing them from extricating themselves. They were being herded like sheep.

"Abort!" Hermione screamed, realizing that they would be unable to win. She refused to risk the lives of her Aurors any further. Their nonlethal spells were too easily blocked, and the criminals were using powerful curses that took all of their efforts to block. Too few attacks were getting through. Hermione gripped a bottle cap tightly in her hand; as the leader, she would make sure the others had left safely before leaving herself.

She watched in panic as six of them obeyed her order, leaving one behind with her.

"Gary, _leave!"_ she yelled, grabbing his shoulder and forcing a Portkey into his hand.

"Not without saving them!" growled the stubborn lad. He desperately sent a stunning curse at one of the criminals, who dove to the floor to avoid it.

Hermione was blisteringly aware that she and Gary were alone with the nine criminals, only two of which had been taken down. She held onto Gary's hand tightly. "Fortu—" Before she could finish the word to transport them out of the losing battle, something hit her hard between the shoulder blades. Pain shot through her and her vest grew warm as it absorbed the brunt of the curse. Nevertheless, the rest of the curse not blocked by the vest was enough to send her reeling into unconsciousness.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Hermione noticed little things as she slowly came back to consciousness. Something was dripping onto her face. She was lying on her side, dull pain in her shoulders and back. Her memory of what had happened came back slowly. Battling...raid...

"Gary!" she gasped, sitting bolt upright. Her head slammed into something above her with a loud clang, but cold fear erased the pain as she realized where she was.

Hermione Granger was in a cage.

Her first thought was that she was in the same basement as before, but a quick glance around disproved that. This cage was in a large room with a cold cement floor. The walls and ceiling were stark and whitewashed. The room smelled of mold and mildew and was lit by a flickering fluorescent light. The dripping came from a leak in the ceiling and appeared to be simply water, thank Merlin. The floor was damp from the dripping water but was at least free of blood. Her hand, still covered in blood from the one prisoner that she had been able to save, shook as she held it in front of her face. Tonk's blood still streaked her face.

"Gary?" Hermione repeated softly. Where was Gary? She hoped against hope that he had gotten out all right.

She could see other cages, but they were all empty. Only silence answered her. Panic threatened to overwhelm the young brunette witch, but she took a deep breath to calm herself. She examined herself for wounds. She was unharmed but for a residual pain in her back; the vest she'd been wearing had blocked the worst of the curse, and it looked like she hadn't been cursed while unconscious. She was wandless and her pockets had been emptied. Her cloak and vest were gone, leaving her in just her shirt, pants, and shoes. They had taken every one of her bottle caps, discovering even the one she'd tucked into her shoe as a last resort.

Next, she examined the cage. It was made of steel, with a magical lock on the door that she would never be able to pick, even if she'd had the tools. The bars were just wide enough for her to get her arm through and much too strong for her to even hope to bend. She sank back against these thick bars in despair, wincing as they hit her bruised shoulders. How would she get out of this? Would they use her to test out one of their hideous curses? And however would Harry be able find her? She was in a different building. They had to have moved her since the Aurors had raided the other.

Maybe Malfoy could help her, she reasoned. He would know where she'd gone from the note that she had left him. But would he risk his safety and/or his position in the gang simply for her? And even if he would, how long would it take him to wake up? Hermione had no way to tell how long she had been out. Her body was still exhausted, though, so she figured that it couldn't have been more than a few hours at most.

The door creaked as it opened, alerting her to the entrance of a woman. Sleek red hair framed a slim, elegant face that was quite familiar. "Hermione Granger," she said triumphantly. "Karma's a bitch, isn't it?"

"Lorelei," hissed Hermione. She refused to show any fear out of sheer stubbornness.

"I have a special curse to test out on you," Lorelei said, a cruel smile twisting her face. "Consider it retribution for imprisoning my dear brother."

Hermione was speechless. How could Lorelei be behind this? How could Malfoy _not_ have known? Had he lied to her? A man walked in, drawing Lorelei's attention. It was one of the Irish brothers that Hermione had battled.

"Who are you?" snapped Lorelei. Her shoulders, bared by the strapless shirt she was wearing, squared in suspicion and anger.

"I'm Connor," he said, seeming confused.

"Until I know all of you by sight, wear a damn nametag!"

"Is there a problem, Lorelei?" August Sappington walked into the room.

Lorelei seemed unaffected at August's harsh voice, while Hermione shuddered at hearing it once more. "Since you were careless and had _your_ headquarters raided, I was generous enough to let you operate here. In return for my generosity, I expect that you have your men wear nametags until I know them all so I can tell if they belong here! They could be Magical Law Enforcement for all I know!"

"I will instruct them to do so," August said, nodding. He looked to Hermione in an effort to detract Lorelei's attention from him. "Is the curse for that one ready yet?"

"Almost." Lorelei turned to grin mockingly at the pale Hermione. "Maximilian is putting the final touches on it."

Hermione's eyes lit up at hearing a name. Maximilian! Could he be the creator of the curses? Though her death seemed imminent, it didn't stop her from wanting to solve this mystery.

"I'll see you soon," whispered Lorelei, her ruby-red lips blowing Hermione a false kiss as she and August left the room. Connor left as well, flipping off the light as he went.

Alone in the dark, Hermione rested her head on her knees. To stave off the fear, she processed the information she had just been privy to. There were two different, but connected, groups of the same gang. She assumed that Lorelei was the head, with August a close second. She had no idea where this Maximilian fit into the hierarchy, however. Malfoy was a part of August's group, so it followed that he didn't know Lorelei was involved and vice versa. He hadn't moved up far enough in the hierarchy to warrant meeting her. There were other possible ideas, many involving Malfoy lying to her, but for once Hermione decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. If she was going to die, she might as well do it thinking the best of people.

Silence took over the room, and it was all Hermione could do to stay awake. By this time it was probably very late at night, and her body wanted to sleep. Though she knew she should stay awake, her eyes slid closed and dragged her into sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

Much later, light flooded the room. She jolted awake, muscles stiff from the uncomfortable position. She blinked to clear her eyes as she heard the sharp tap of high-heeled shoes enter the room, followed by the heavier thud of a man's shoes. Lorelei crossed the room in quick, impatient steps. "If it kills her, you'll have to find another muggle for me to use tonight at auction."

August, who had followed her into the room, nodded confusedly. "Do you always test out the curses before the auctions? You'll go through twice as many subjects that way!"

Lorelei paused, her eyes as cold as ice. "You keep saying things that make me wonder why I even allowed you to be in control of the London group! If you don't test them out," she said slowly, as if talking to a small child, "then you will make mistakes and look like a fool in front of your customers!"

August looked down, abashed, and Lorelei turned her attention to Hermione. "This curse is one that I'm quite proud of," Lorelei proclaimed. "It's a torture curse that affects both the mind and body."

"Why not just use the Cruciatus Curse?" asked a smooth voice. Lorelei whipped around surprise. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, looking as impeccable as usual. He wore a pristine black suit; silver rings glinted on his fingers. He definitely didn't look like he'd been on the losing end of a fight the previous night.

"Draco!" cried Lorelei, clearly surprised to see him. She didn't look altogether displeased. "Come to save your little pet?"

"Lorelei?" Draco was just as surprised to see her as she was to see him, but he hid it faster. "I work for August."

"And August works for me!" exclaimed Lorelei. "What a lovely coincidence!"

"You two know each other?" August inquired, looking rather confused by the whole exchange.

"Lorelei and I have some history together," Draco purred, never even glancing towards Hermione. He turned to Lorelei. "Rest assured, I'm here purely for my own curiosity."

"Don't think I've forgiven you for your role in my brother's imprisonment," Lorelei said, but her eyes softened as she took in the sight of the striking bachelor. Hermione suspected that the two of them had had some _dating_ history together at some point, judging by the way Malfoy had said "history." "But perhaps you can make it up to me somehow."

"I'd be happy to try," Draco murmured silkily.

"August, you may leave," Lorelei said suddenly. "Draco will assist me from here."

August's eyes flashed angrily. "Draco just started working for me! I have seniority—I _demand _to be here."

"Consider Draco promoted," Lorelei said sweetly, staring him down. The two glared at each other, the contrast between them quite shocking. The slender, casually-dressed redhead had to look up to meet the angry gaze of the solidly-built older man, but to Hermione's surprise, August was the first to look away. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

"Back to my question," Draco said smoothly, as if they hadn't been interrupted. "Why is your curse better than the Cruciatus Curse?"

"Two reasons," Lorelei said, happily taking Malfoy's arm. Her anger seemed to have evaporated with frightening speed. Now that she had Hermione to blame for Mark's imprisonment, it was easy to forgive to handsome blonde for any part that he had played. "First, and most obviously, it's not illegal. Using the Cruciatus Curse gets you a lifetime sentence in Azkaban, but since this curse was just created, it's not illegal, and it won't become illegal unless the Ministry gets their hands on the incantation. They can't make a curse illegal if they don't know what it is."

Draco nodded, unimpressed. The illegality of the Cruciatus Curse had never bothered him before. Sensing this, Lorelei hastened on to her next part of the explanation.

"Secondly, it mixes pleasure and pain to intensify the torture. It starts with pleasure that brings forth ecstatic feelings and memories—then it switches to pain. The contrast between the two is staggering," Lorelei explained. "It will elicit a much greater level of pain than the Cruciatus Curse."

Hermione's palms began to sweat as she heard the sort of torture that she was slated to undergo. She willed Malfoy to look at her, to save her, to tell Lorelei that this was wrong—something, anything! But he remained impassive.

Lorelei's face fell by a small margin when she saw that Draco wasn't as thrilled with the curse as she was. "You know what? Let me show you."

As Lorelei raised her wand, Hermione saw Malfoy grab his own wand. She realized quickly that he was about to attack Lorelei to save her.

"No!" Hermione cried; if Malfoy attacked Lorelei now, they would never find Maximilian.

Lorelei paused, a sneer on her face. "Begging will get you nowhere, you little whore."

Malfoy likewise halted, his eyes questioning. Hermione searched her brain for words to communicate to Malfoy without letting Lorelei know what she was doing. As she gazed intently at Malfoy, she saw his wand wave subtly. His grey eyes met bored into her and he mouthed the word "Legilimens."

The familiar presence of his mind settled over hers. She felt and watched him carefully sift through her most recent memories of the night. Hermione was dimly aware of Lorelei mocking her, but she barely heard it as she focused on Malfoy. He finally came across the memory of Lorelei letting the name Maximilian slip. As the words "Maximilian is putting the final touches on it" left the lips of the memory of Lorelei, an intense chill swept through Hermione's body.

Lorelei had begun the curse.

A barrage of physical sensations coursed through her skin at once. It was the feeling of sunshine on her skin, a cold drink of water after exercising, the feeling of being wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold night, the gentle caress of a man's fingers. A startled gasp left Hermione's mouth; the intensity of the sensations forced Malfoy out of her mind. Hermione cringed back against the bars, dizzy from the onslaught of feelings. It was too much. Her eyes focused dazedly on Lorelei, who was watching the effects of the curse with elation. Her wand waved back and forth in a slow, peaceful motion. Every good physical feeling that Hermione had ever felt was somehow present at once on her body. It was an assault on her mind, and she struggled not to scream.

The feeling of Malfoy's lips on hers joined the rest of the sensations, nearly driving her over the edge.

Malfoy watched, his eyes anxious as he replaced his wand in his pocket. He knew now that he couldn't attack Lorelei, lest he risk losing "Maximilian."

"Now watch the contrast," Lorelei said with an excited laugh. She changed the pattern of her wand movement so that it swished back and forth swiftly in a jagged line.

The sensations instantly changed. The feeling of sunshine turned into a burning fire; the cold drink of water became icicles stabbing into her skin; the warm blanket began smothering her. Malfoy's lips turned violent, bruising her skin and hurting her lips. More painful sensations joined those, overwhelming the woman. She was attacked in every direction, the pain choking her. No outward signs of injury showed on her body.

So lost in the agony, Hermione didn't even notice that she was screaming hysterically and flailing in the cage. Her arms and legs crashed against the bars, making Malfoy cringe a little bit inwardly.

The sensations swarmed and overwhelmed her, and after approximately a minute of pain, she passed out.

The next thing that Hermione felt was heat. Heat rushed through her body; she was drenched in sweat. Her head pounded and her arms and legs ached terribly. She opened her eyes slowly, realizing how leaden her limbs felt. The room was empty, but the light was still on. The door opened as she watched. Malfoy strode quickly over to her, glancing suspiciously around the room.

"You're awake," he stated.

"Where is she?" Hermione asked hoarsely. Her throat was raw from screaming.

"Having her curse-maker fix the fact that you passed out so quickly," he answered, sliding a short metal key into the lock of her cage. "Torture curses aren't effective if the victim falls unconscious after a mere minute. Come here."

Ignoring the blood on her face and hand, Malfoy pulled her out of the cage and helped her stand up.

Hermione leaned heavily on him for support, grimacing at the pain in her head.

"I have a fever," she realized aloud as the room spun around her. Poorly-cast curses could sometimes cause physical symptoms such as fevers, headaches, or nausea.

"There's nothing I can do about that now," Malfoy snapped, his harsh tone surprising Hermione. His grey eyes were dangerous as he thrust a vial of thick, black potion in her hand. "Drink. It's Polyjuice Potion from your room."

"But she's going to wonder where I—"

"Just do it," Malfoy snarled, cutting her off.

His tone left no room for discussion—Hermione shot him a glare and downed the potion in one gulp, closing her eyes as her body twisted and transformed into that of Brooke Locke.

"Put these on," Malfoy ordered, handing her a black shirt and jeans that Hermione recognized as Brooke's; he must have taken them from her room at The Leaky Cauldron. He turned his back while she quickly stripped off the remnants of her Auror uniform and put on Brooke's clothes.

"Do you have a plan for getting out of here?" she asked once she was dressed in the clean clothes. Malfoy vanished her old clothes and magically cleaned the blood from her face and hand. "Yes," he said bluntly, tucking his wand in his pocket. "It's called keep your mouth shut and let me handle this."

The heat of her body's fever was no match for the heat of her anger at his dismissive, angry attitude. "Listen, Malfoy," she began hotly, but he cut her off.

"No, you listen." In a whirl of movement, his hands were suddenly on her shoulders, gripping tightly. His fingers dug into her shoulders while he brought his face very close to hers. His soft breathing felt cool and soothing on her flushed face, smelling of peppermint. "I warned you about the dangers of this group, but you charged ahead and rushed into this anyway. You have _no idea_ what I went through to find you. I'm risking _my_ life now too, as well as the success of our mission. So forgive me when I tell you that it is time for you to _step back _and let me handle this," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

Dizzy from the fever and surprised by his ferocity, Hermione fell silent. She didn't have the energy to argue the point. "Fine," she muttered.

Malfoy abruptly let go of her and began striding towards the door. Hermione hastened to keep up with him, taking deep breaths to try to clear her head. Malfoy held the door open for her, frowning as she stumbled while walking through. He darted forward to catch her before she fell. "You need to act normal, for both our sakes," he stated, his face set with determination as he stared directly into her eyes. "You're safe with me as long as they don't suspect you're anyone but Brooke Locke. I spoke to August before you were tortured and he has agreed to hire 'Brooke' for Ariana's old position." He pinned a nametag that said "Brooke Locke" to her shirt.

"All right," Hermione agreed, nodding. The movement made her head ache even more. Malfoy supporting her body with his was a huge relief to her aching, feverish limbs.

Malfoy made as if to let go of her, but she clung to him. "Just one more minute," Hermione begged, trying to compose herself. She could tell that her temperature was well above normal. Pain, exhaustion, and fear were all warring to engulf her. Her legs trembled.

"Keep it together, Hermione," Malfoy hissed, glancing down the mercifully-empty hallway.

Bristling at his condescending tone, Hermione drew on the last dregs of her strength and forced herself to release Draco and stand without his help. "Let's go," she said firmly.

Malfoy grinned wryly at her stubbornness and led the way down the hallway. Hermione was too busy trying to keep herself from passing out to notice much about her surroundings other than the fact that the building seemed to be some sort of half-finished construction site. Some walls were only partially finished, and construction equipment was randomly strewn about.

A clattering of high heels from behind them made Malfoy whirl around and whip his wand out, grabbing Hermione and pulling her behind him.

"Draco!" shrieked Lorelei, running up to him. She was so frantic that she didn't notice Draco's knee-jerk reaction to protect the unknown girl. "She's gone! Hermione Granger's gone!"

"Who was guarding her?" Malfoy asked, very realistic anger infusing his tone. He lowered his wand.

"One of your lot," she spat, her eyes wild. "Dmitri. I found him unconscious in a closet."

"Relax," Malfoy said. "She can't have gone far. She's probably hiding out here somewhere. Get everyone together and we'll find her."

Some of the anxiety left Lorelei's face. "Who's that?" she asked curiously, pointing at Hermione.

Hermione concentrated hard on staying focused and acting as if she wasn't about to pass out. "I'm—"

"Her name is Brooke Locke," Malfoy interrupted smoothly. "She's our current auction girl. Not much brains, you understand, but pretty enough to get the job done."

Hermione swallowed her pride and gave Lorelei a vapid, simpering smile. Lorelei rolled her eyes dismissively, turning her attention back to Malfoy. "Help me get people together," she ordered. "I'll take the left wing, you take the right."

Without waiting for confirmation, Lorelei stalked off down the hallway. Suddenly energized, Hermione grabbed Malfoy's arm and said urgently, "We need to find Gary before leaving."

Utterly displeased, Malfoy freed his arm and began walking down the hallway. "Who's Gary?" he snapped.

"He's my friend—an Auror. I'm not leaving without him." Her eyes blazed with determination.

"Granger, you're not well," Malfoy said, trying to remain calm as the stubborn girl crossed her arms defiantly in front of him. "You need to get out of here before you blow our perilously-thin cover story. How long do you think it'll take for them to think of using a locator spell to see if you're still in the building? Once they do, it's only a short leap of logic to realize that it's _you!"_

Torn between her fierce loyalty to her friend and her sense of logic, Hermione hesitated. She looked down, biting her lip as she warred with herself. It took her only a moment to decide. When she looked up, fire flickered in her eyes as she said defiantly, "No. I'm not leaving without him."

"Oh, you think I was actually giving you a choice," Malfoy hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her with him down the hallway.

"Let go!" yelped Hermione, trying to loosen his grip. "We have to find—"

"Fuck this. Stupefy!"

A red light shot from the end of Malfoy's wand and struck Hermione squarely in the chest. With a look of despair, Hermione's eyes fell closed and she grew limp in Malfoy's arms.


	17. Chapter 17

There was no gradual shift from Hermione's magic-induced unconsciousness to consciousness this time—it was instantaneous. The incredible heat in her feverish body was still present, boiling below the surface, but she pushed it out of her mind. Her eyes flew open, seeing black fabric in front of her. Wind whipped by her, cooling her cheeks immediately registered where she was.

She was in the air, her legs on either side of a broomstick that was speeding through the night. But she wasn't riding alone; her hands were around the body of the person in front of her. When she attempted to move her arms, she realized that her wrists were tied loosely in front of her to prevent her from falling off while in flight. By the smell of cologne on the shirt of the man in front of her and the white-blonde hair, she knew that it was Draco Malfoy.

Rather than being relieved, she felt anger turning her face red and making her blood boil. Gary was back there somewhere in the night, quite possibly dead. If he died, she would never forgive Malfoy—never. As they sped through the air hundreds of feet above the ground, Hermione feigned unconsciousness until they touched down lightly in the grass before the huge expanse that was Malfoy Manor.

The second they landed, Hermione was all fluid motion. In one smooth movement, she slid her tied wrists over Malfoy's head. Malfoy was equally as fast, though she'd caught him off-guard. By the time he'd reacted to neutralize the threat, Hermione had slipped her wrists free of the rope binding them and attacked. She still did not have her wand, as it had been taken from her by Lorelei, so she was left with only physical attacks. And she was angry; blisteringly angry. Her body slammed into his muscular one, knocking the wind out of them both. Off balance by her crude method of attack, Malfoy fell backwards with a cry of surprise. Hermione landed on top of him and began striking every part of his body that she could reach.

"How dare you stupefy an Auror!" she yelled, punching Malfoy in the stomach and chest with every word as he lay beneath her. "Gary's my friend and he could be _dead_ because of you!"

"All right, enough!" growled Malfoy, hooking his foot around Hermione's leg and flipping her over.

Hermione let out a grunt as her back hit the ground. "Let go of me!" she snarled, struggling to kick him. Malfoy straddled her easily, pinning her to the ground beneath him and restraining her hands. She glared up at him, spitting mad.

"If I let go of you, will you behave?" Malfoy asked,

Hermione nodded. Malfoy released her hands and Hermione clenched them together to hit him hard in the solar plexus. With a wheeze of pain, he fell sideways onto the ground. Hermione scrambled to her knees and fumbled in his pocket for his wand.

Still struggling for breath, Malfoy offered no resistance as Hermione quickly located the smooth wood of a wand in his pocket. As she pulled it out, she realized with delight that it was her own!

Just as she made this realization, Malfoy managed to recover enough to forcefully shove her away from him, getting quickly to his feet. When the two of them faced each other, both standing, Hermione saw that he had drawn his own wand as well.

Both breathing heavily from adrenaline and exertion, they circled each other warily.

"You Gryffindors are all the same," panted Malfoy, his wand aimed levelly at Hermione. "You throw all caution to the winds when it comes to saving your friends. You don't care about the consequences! You don't even think about how detrimental that could have been for our mission! You don't care that you could have died—that _I_ could have died!" His face was flushed with both anger and exertion and his eyes blazed with a deadly fury.

"You don't make decisions for me, Malfoy!" Hermione spat. Though it was a cool summer evening, she felt hot with anger...or was it the fever? "How dare you take me from there against my will! You could have just left on your own; I didn't _need _you to stay with me. Do you know the penalty for stunning an Auror? I should bloody arrest you right now!" In contrast to Malfoy's calm, steady hand, her wand hand was shaking.

"First of all, you were in no condition to mount a solo rescue mission," retorted Malfoy, the smirk on his face mixing with anger to make him look almost frightening. "In case you didn't know, a raging fever and battered body is not the best condition to go into battle with! If you couldn't handle them when you had a group of Aurors at your back, what makes you think you could handle them now?"

Before Hermione could reply, he plowed on. "If you want to arrest me, then take your shot, Granger." He spread his arms wide, mocking her.

Boiling mad, Hermione shot a nonverbal stunning curse winging in Malfoy's direction. He didn't move, a puzzled look on his face as the stunner flew high, missing him completely. "Nice aim," he mocked, putting his arms down.

Confused, but still furious, Hermione yelled, "Stupefy!" The red light that fired from her wand once more missed Malfoy by a considerable degree. The heat of her anger seemed to take over her whole body, but it no longer felt like anger as much as hot, slippery mass of emotions and sensations inside her body.

Malfoy seemed now more bemused than angry, his smirk melting on his face. His eyes looked like they were melting, too, dribbling down his face like silvery pools of moonlight. In fact, the entire landscape began to melt behind him as well, trees turning into a feathery gauze of green.

"Granger?" Malfoy's voice said, but she couldn't see his mouth move. His face slowly moved sideways; why was everything falling sideways? As her head hit the soft grass with a thud that she didn't even feel, Hermione realized that it was she who was falling sideways, rather than the rest of the world. There was a deafening buzzing in her ears that drowned out Malfoy's words as he leaned down to peer into her eyes.

"Hermione?" The word was long and drawn out beyond recognition. A cool hand rested on her forehead, icy against the heat of her skin. Hermione's eyelids felt leaden but she tried to keep them open. The world spun further as she was hoisted into the air. "Let's go," Malfoy muttered, storming towards the front door of his mansion.

"Malfoy," Hermione groaned as her entire body throbbed with pain and heat. "It's a cursed fever."

"Of course it's a cursed fever," snapped Malfoy, kicking his front door open after nonverbally unlocking it. "It would be splendid if you could tell me how to fix it."

As he entered the comfortable familiarity of his manor, Malfoy saw Hermione's lips part as she breathed a final heavy sigh before passing out. "Of course," he snarled to himself. "Nothing's ever easy when it comes to a Gryffindor."

"Boss! You're back!" came the familiar voice of Draco's current second in command of the Hunters, Marcus, who was freshly out of prison. He grinned, his white teeth glinting. "Are you finished with your secret mission? The boys have been dying to get back to work. And who is she?" He didn't recognize Hermione, as her body was still that of Brooke Locke.

"No, I'm not finished, and you lot will just have to be patient for a bit longer," said Draco, a bit impatiently. "She's a guest in my house and will be treated as such. Help me get her upstairs and into my room."

Marcus winked lewdly at Malfoy. "Ah, that sort of guest, eh? Stunned her to get her here? I rather like using Imperio on them—it saves the energy of carrying 'em!"

Anger surged through Malfoy at the very idea of stunning Hermione in order to force himself on her. The thought of taking a woman—especially Hermione—by force made him think wishfully of torturing Marcus. He restrained himself from doing so and instead said acidly, "If you're quite finished speaking, hold her while I find my key."

Looking a bit stung, Marcus took Hermione's unconscious body from Malfoy while he searched through his pockets for the key to his room.

Whenever Draco was away from his mansion for awhile, he locked the door to his room and the two rooms adjoined to either side of it. The lock could not be opened by any spell or charm without the key. Inside those three rooms were the most valuable items in the mansion—things that he wouldn't want either a Ministry official or prying Hunters to find. Since ten of his thirty-six Hunters lived in the West Wing of his house, he didn't want them going in his room either accidentally or on purpose. His fingers closed on the silver key deep in his pocket.

"You might not want to have your way with this one, Boss," Marcus said warily, looking down at Hermione suspiciously. "She's on fire. I think she's sick. You don't want to catch something from her..."

"Just give her to me, Marcus."

Wounded by his leader's angry tone, Marcus nevertheless handed Hermione over, though none-too-gently. Her head hit the banister of the staircase with a soft thud.

"Watch it!" snapped Malfoy, cradling Hermione carefully in his arms. Marcus stormed off down the hallway while Draco ascended the stairs that led to the East Wing of his manor. Outside his room, Malfoy fumbled with the key until it finally slid into the lock. Looking both ways to make sure no one could hear him, he leaned close to the door and whispered into the lock, "Wolfsbane." With a soft click, the door opened.

Draco placed Hermione carefully on his neatly-made bed and walked across the room to the small glass table where his potions lay. He picked up a brick-red, watery potion and held it briefly in his hand, considering. "It can't hurt," he finally muttered, returning to Hermione's side.

Her breaths were deep and slow—too slow, he thought to himself, though he was no Healer. If only Mark was still with the Hunters instead of a traitor rotting in Azkaban... It was obvious Hermione had a fever by the flush on her face and the heat of her skin. When he felt her forehead, it was clammy and sweaty.

After lifting her up into a sitting position, Draco aimed his wand at her, saying clearly, "Ennervate."

Hermione's eyes opened, gazing up at Draco dazedly.

"Swallow this," he said, showing her the red potion.

Hermione shook her head. "It's a cursed fever," she repeated. "Anti-fever potions won't work."

"Then tell me, oh brilliant one, what am I supposed to do?" Malfoy said, a bit harshly. He didn't like being wrong.

Hermione's hair began slowly shifting color from black to brown as the Polyjuice Potion wore off. "Harry," she said faintly. "I need Harry."

Harry Potter glanced sideways at his wife, sleeping soundly in the bed of their house. His two-day-old son, Sirius, cooed softly as he slept in his baby crib next to his parents' bed. Harry adored his son, absolutely adored this first addition to their family. But little Sirius was not what Harry was thinking about at this moment.

His best friend, Hermione Granger, had been reported as missing. A shaken Tonks had told him the news from her hospital bed in St. Mungo's just the day before. Gary Saunders, their youngest Auror, was also missing.

Harry slowly shifted away from Ginny, trying to move as slowly and lightly as he could. If Ginny woke up, it would surely start a fight of epic proportions. His fiery redhead had flatly refused to allow him to leave the house when he learned of Hermione's capture, as his son had just been born. Harry loved Ginny Potter with all of his heart, but she didn't understand why it had to be Harry who needed to go after the people who had captured Hermione and Gary. She didn't understand how every time he needed Hermione, she had always been there for him—they had defeated Lord Voldemort together. He loved her as a sister and would risk his life for her any day of the week.

With barely a sound, Harry slipped out of bed, carefully removing his wand from the nightstand. His Auror uniform was lying over a chair in the corner, ready and waiting for him. He dressed with the utmost care and caution, knowing that he would catch hell if Ginny were to wake up.

Hermione had gone through so much already—if he didn't go after her, he would never be able to forgive himself. Harry tiptoed quietly down the stairs, making it to his front door without Ginny suspecting a thing. He opened the front door quickly—it always squeaked when opened slowly—just in time to run into a fist that was poised in the air, ready to knock on the door.

The man who had been about to knock leapt backwards in surprise, having not expected the door to open right in his face. Harry stifled his own surprised cry with his hand, closing the door softly behind him as he raised his wand defensively. "Who's there?" he hissed quietly into the darkness. All he could see of the person in front of him were black robes and a hooded face.

"She asked for you," was the stated reply, stepping forward into the moonlight so that Harry could see there were two people in front of him. Hermione Granger, one of the people he cared about most in the world, was unmoving in the arms of the stranger.

Harry snapped into action, anger flooding through him. He didn't know why Hermione had been brought back to him, nor how this man had found his house, but he didn't care. The stranger holding Hermione had no way to defend himself with the way he was holding his prisoner. In two quick spells, Hermione was lying softly in the grass and the man was on his knees, disarmed, with his arms bound behind his back.

Harry walked forward, heart hammering. He ripped back the hood over the man's face.

Draco Malfoy glared up at him, grey eyes reflecting back the moonlight shining down upon them.

"She was right about you," Harry said, shock numbing him at the realization that Malfoy was one of the people behind kidnapping his Aurors and making horrendous curses. "She was wrong about the crime, but right that you are a criminal." It was mostly anger at himself for not believing Hermione that led Harry to backhand Malfoy across the face.

Malfoy didn't make a sound, though his head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. He slowly returned his gaze to Harry, his bottom lip bleeding. "I did not—"

"Silencio!" Harry said softly but furiously. He rushed over to Hermione, his heart hammering in his chest. Relief flooded through him as he felt her pulse and realized she was alive. He carefully turned her over, his hands immediately registering how hot her body was. "Oh, no," he whispered, assuming that she had been affected by one of the curses that could not be healed. He reached into his pocket for one of the bottle caps that he always kept in there. Placing it in Hermione's hands, he quickly spoke the word, "Salus."

A soft whooshing sound swept through the night as Hermione was whisked away to St. Mungo's Hospital. Harry flinched at the sound, looking upwards towards the window of his bedroom. No lights went on upstairs and he breathed a sigh of relief. The relief was short-lived, however, as he turned his eyes back to Draco Malfoy, who was struggling against his bindings and the spell that kept him on his knees.

Harry strode over to Malfoy, scooping up the criminal's dropped wand as he did so. A pair of magical handcuffs at the ready, he negated the spells on Malfoy. Before Malfoy could fight him off, Harry clapped the handcuffs around his wrists, saying grimly, "Draco Malfoy, you're under arrest for kidnapping and assault."

"Potter, you're making a mistake," spat Malfoy, just before Harry forced him into Side-Along Apparition.


	18. Chapter 18

"Hermione."

...

"Hermione, open your eyes."

...

"Hermione, it's Harry. You need to wake up now."

Harry's familiar voice cut through the deep sleep that Hermione was in, leading her to open her eyes and blink heavily. The first thing she noticed was the smell of antiseptic and potions. She was in a hospital bed with her very best friend beside her holding her hand.

"Hermione," Harry sighed with relief. "You're awake." He kissed her hand gently.

Hermione sat up slowly, marveling at the fact that she felt perfectly fine. The aches in her body from the torture and the fighting were completely gone, as was her fever. There was no one else in the small, private room but Harry. Harry looked worn, as if he hadn't slept in awhile. "How long was I out?" she asked, yawning.

"Three days in St. Mungo's," Harry answered. "How do you feel?"

"I feel great," replied Hermione, stretching her limbs experimentally. "How did I get here?" The last thing that she remembered was being at Malfoy's mansion, fever raging.

"First of all, Hermione," Harry said, looking extremely guilty for some reason, "I want to apologize to you for not believing you about Malfoy. I should have believed you when you told me that he was a criminal. I'm so sorry." 

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, confused. What was Harry talking about? How had he found out that Malfoy was the leader of the Hunters?

"He won't ever bother you again," Harry said reassuringly. "He'll be in Azkaban for a long time, if not for life. His questioning is actually going on right now."

Hermione went pale. "What is he in Azkaban for?" she pressed.

"For kidnapping you, of course!" The confusion on Harry's face mirrored that of Hermione's. "Well," he amended, "and for being part of the group that creates those curses. We'll find out everything this evening when I get the results of his interrogation."

"He didn't kidnap me," Hermione protested, throwing off the bedcovers. She sat up, her brown eyes blazing. "He's not a part of the group we raided. He was the one who _saved_ me."

"Hermione, it's okay," Harry said, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He can't hurt you again."

Hermione shrugged off his hand and stood up. "Where's my wand?"

"We recovered it from Malfoy," Harry said, holding it out to her. "I know this must be a shock to find out that you're safe after being tortured, but trust me, Malfoy will never hurt you or anyone else again."

Lying conveniently on a chair by the bed was a fresh Auror uniform, which Hermione quickly donned while Harry averted his eyes.

"Who's questioning him?" asked Hermione. She faced Harry, her jaw set with determination.

Harry shifted uneasily. "Magical Law Enforcement sent Bryce Goldberg over." At Hermione's horrified expression, he added hastily, "Kingsley couldn't get anything out of him!"

"You're making a huge mistake," Hermione said, storming out of the hospital room, her words an ominous echo of what Malfoy had said to him.

"Hermione, come back!" Harry called, striding after her. "You can't just leave—you have to be cleared by a Healer!"

The woman he was pursuing didn't even look back once as she headed for the fireplace at the end of the hall. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, she snapped, "Ministry of Magic!" and disappeared with a burst of green flames.

"Damn it," Harry snarled, running for the fireplace to follow her.

Hermione reappeared in the expansive atrium of the Ministry of Magic. The main level was busy and bustling with people, but Hermione barely noticed as she hurried for the elevators. "Auror business," she called, pushing her way through the throng of people waiting in line. Holding her badge in front of her like a shield, she managed to get into an empty elevator, pushing the button for level ten. Before anyone else could get in, she closed the elevator doors quickly.

The elevator moved swiftly, the cool female voice listing the names of each floor as they passed it. Hermione shifted from either side anxiously, mentally willing the elevator to go faster. If an interrogator from the Magical Law Enforcement squad was involved, they would be on level ten, using one of the holding cells adjacent to a courtroom as their interrogation room. Level ten was far enough away from the other floors so that no one could hear anything going on in the room. This sort of interrogation was reserved solely for Dark Wizards and any criminal believed to have knowledge of horrific crimes—such as the kidnapping of an Auror.

Though Hermione was now safe, Gary was still missing. If the Aurors believed that Malfoy knew where Gary Saunders was, they would do everything in their power to get him back safely. Anything and everything.

Finally the elevator reached level ten and Hermione broke into a run she approached the last courtroom, the one farthest away from the elevators.

She reached the door to the holding cell and pulled on the handle. Locked tightly from the inside, it didn't even budge. Before trying to get in, Hermione pressed her ear against the door, listening to see if she was even in the right place.

She heard only silence for a moment, and then: "The Dementors tell me that every time they approach you, they see terrible memories of water," a silky smooth male voice whispered. "You fear water more than you fear anything else, don't you, Draco?"

If Malfoy made a response, Hermione couldn't hear it.

"Tell me where Gary Saunders is being held," the man coaxed, his voice deadly.

Silence.

Moments later, the voice continued. "Then this shall continue until you speak."

Hermione heard a strange sound, like someone being drowned—choking and gasping filled the air, along with a splashing, roaring sound. "Alohomora!" cried Hermione. The door swung open forcefully and she rushed in.

She beheld a shocking sight. Draco Malfoy was sitting in a wooden chair that was bolted to the floor, his wrists handcuffed behind him. A swirling vortex of water enclosed his entire body, yet the floor was completely dry. It was as if Malfoy was trapped within a bubble of water. Draco thrashed in his chair, his eyes wide as he screamed soundlessly into the water.

"Stop it!" Hermione screamed over the sound of the rushing water.

The only other person in the room started in surprise, turning to face her. He was of average size, but completely bald. His shaven head was oiled and shone brightly in the light coming from the ceiling of the large holding cell. Black eyes narrowed in her direction as he glanced at her Auror badge. "I told them that I would summon them the moment I got any information out of him," he said disapprovingly, waving his wand carelessly towards Malfoy.

The water vanished, leaving Malfoy soaking wet where it had been. Malfoy gasped as he breathed in air, choking out the water he had swallowed. His voice erupted from him in a terrified rasp. "I don't _know_ where he is!" Eyes wild with terror, hair and body soaked with water, he looked as if he had been through hell.

"He's a tough one to crack," Bryce Goldberg commented, turning back to Malfoy with a wry grin on his face. "If you want to watch, that's fine with me, but don't interfere."

Bryce raised his wand again but Hermione leapt between him and Malfoy, who didn't appear to have even seen her. His head hung over his chest, defeated.

"How do you know that he knows where Gary is?" Hermione asked, her voice high-pitched with anxiety. She didn't understand how Malfoy didn't know where Gary was, since after all, he had come to her aid in Lorelei's hideout. The interrogation currently going on was unjust, she knew this in her heart. Though perfectly legal through the post-Voldemort laws designed to bring down any future Dark wizards, this kind of questioning was little better than torture.

Displeased with the interruption, Bryce answered shortly, "He has the Veritaprotego tattoo on his shoulder."

Marching over to Malfoy, Bryce ripped his damp shirt from the neck, revealing the shoulder. A small tattoo of two interlocking V's marked the skin of his left shoulder. The Veritaprotego tattoo protected its bearer from the effects of the Veritaserum potion and all other truth-telling potions. It cost hundreds of thousands of Galleons, but Malfoy was filthy rich and could afford such things. The Veritaprotego tattoo could only be administered by one man who had spent his entire life perfecting the technique. The inventor of the Veritaprotego tattoo was an extremely secretive man; when he died, the secret of the tattoo would die with him.

"We managed to get him to answer one question under Veritaserum before the effects of the tattoo kicked in," Bryce explained. Except for an angry growl when his shirt was ripped, Malfoy remained silent and motionless. "When asked if he was a member of the group who had captured you and Gary, he answered 'yes.' If he's a member of the group, then he has to know where they keep prisoners!"

Hermione bit her lip, considering. It was a shame that Malfoy had the Veritaprotego tattoo. Questioning him would have been a lot easier if he was susceptible to truth-telling potions. Then again, Malfoy probably had a lot of secrets that he wanted to keep hidden. Perhaps he would talk to her out of earshot of the interrogator.

"Give me a moment alone with him," Hermione ordered, trying to sound authoritative and not as if she was frightened out of her mind for Malfoy if she was unable to reason her way out of this one.

Bryce's scowl deepened. "I don't take orders from any of you Aurors except for your department head. I don't see Mr. Potter around here anywhere, do you?"

As if on cue, Harry pushed the door open, breathing hard. Seeing Hermione, he visibly sighed with relief.

"M-Mr. Potter!" Bryce exclaimed, his swarthy skin paling a bit at Harry's eerily-perfect timing. "She wants to question him alone, but—"

"Hermione. Outside now," Harry said authoritatively, beckoning her with his hand. Hermione glared at him but knew that she couldn't disobey a direct order from her superior in front of someone else. She swept past him out of the room as Harry followed her.

"What are you doing?" Harry hissed, closing the door behind him. "Are you insane? Do you _want_ to lose your job again, and permanently this time?" Concern mixed with anger on his face as his green eyes pierced through her.

A cry of pain from inside the room made both of them flinch. "This is _wrong_ Harry," Hermione stated, resisting the urge to run back into the room. Though she didn't always agree with Malfoy and the things he did, she knew that he was suffering in that room and like it or not, he was the closest thing she had to a partner. "Just let me talk to him alone—give me a chance to get him to talk. Harry, please," she begged, grabbing his hands tightly when she suspected that he might refuse.

After warring with himself for long seconds, Harry finally nodded, though he didn't look very pleased with either himself or Hermione. "Five minutes, and that's it," he acquiesced.

"Thank you," Hermione said in relief, hastily walking back into the room. Water was swirling around Malfoy once more, surrounding and drowning him.

"Bryce!" snapped Harry, refusing to look at the scene before him. Though he had to uphold the laws, he didn't have to watch the interrogation. Truth be told, he didn't agree with their techniques any more than Hermione did. "Come outside for five minutes."

Though Bryce clearly didn't agree with Harry, he nodded and left the room with him, ending the curse on Malfoy as he did so.

The water disappeared, leaving Malfoy to cough and sputter as he tried to breathe through the water he'd inhaled. Hermione shut the door and locked it. Malfoy didn't even look at her when she rushed to his side.

"You wonder why I'm a Hunter instead of following _your_ lot's methods of capturing criminals," he spat, his voice weak and raw from screaming. Frantic breaths made his chest rise and fall quickly, water dripping from his clothes. His tangled, blonde hair fell into his eyes as he looked down to the floor. Dirt streaked the white shirt and ripped pants that he was wearing—tattered remnants of the immaculate suit he'd worn when coming to her rescue days ago.

Guilt flooded through the young woman but she pushed it aside, knowing that time was short. A quick spell unlocked his handcuffs and she gasped at the open sores on his wrists. Struggling against the handcuffs while being tortured had left him with bruises and gashes that were surely infected. Realizing that he was free, Malfoy slowly moved his hands from behind his back to his lap, a low groan of pain escaping him against his will. Shivering with cold from the water, he finally met her gaze with his.

His grey eyes pierced her accusingly—it was all Hermione could do not to look away.

"I was in the hospital for three days," she felt the need to say. "The second I heard what happened to you, I was on my way. Why won't you tell them where Gary is?"

"I don't know where he is," he said desperately, his arrogance lost momentarily by the unjustness of the situation. "I don't know where the hideout is—the only way I got there was by an unauthorized Portkey from August! It's not like I can exactly tell the Aurors that I'm infiltrating Lorelei's group in order to bring them down—as far as they are concerned, I'm a criminal who would say anything to be set free."

It all became clear to Hermione now—Malfoy had no official status in her investigation. She couldn't tell the Aurors that he was helping her penetrate Lorelei's organization because it was illegal to use an ordinary citizen in an investigation. She was in a hopeless situation.

Malfoy looked at her, knowing and understanding the position that she was in. "There's nothing you can do," he said finally. "Unless you want to break me out of here." But there was little hope in his eyes.

"I can't," she whispered. She couldn't betray Harry. "But I can try to help you. I'll find Gary myself. It shouldn't be that hard to find him, right? After all, I'm a member of the group, too—Brooke is, I mean."

"This is a terrible idea," Malfoy said haughtily, his normal tone returning to him. "Really, what makes you think you can do this by yourself?" 

"I got along just fine before you, Malfoy, and I'll get along just fine without you," she retorted.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Take this," he muttered, reaching slowly into his pocket. The fabric of his pants rubbed against the sores on his wrists, eliciting a pained moan as he finally reached what he was looking for. He handed over a silver key, wincing. Before he could tell her what it was for, the door swung open behind them. Hermione slid the key into her pocket surreptitiously.

"It's been five minutes," Harry said, entering before Bryce. His expression showed that he was not open for argument.

"Are you insane?" yelped Bryce, quickly pushing Hermione aside to get to Malfoy. Wrenching the prisoner's arms behind him, Bryce clamped the handcuffs back on Malfoy's hands. "He's a dangerous prisoner!"

The pain from this rough treatment must have been excruciating, but Malfoy refused to cry out. "Dangerous?" he spoke up for the first time. He appeared to have pulled himself together in the face of Harry Potter. "I could kill you six different ways with this chair, you filthy little man. Wand or not. You should be _terrified."_

Hermione scowled at him, knowing that he wasn't helping himself with his arrogant comments. Harry shook his head, knowing Malfoy's character from school. Bryce, however, took this as the threat it sounded like—he reacted quickly, whipping out his wand and stunning Malfoy. The young man fell limp in his chair. "Mr. Potter, with all due respect, please allow me to do my job."

Harry nodded. He didn't agree with the torture that Malfoy was slated to undergo, but Gary was one of his people—a bright, energetic kid fresh out of training. Gary had a good heart, and Harry would do nearly anything to get Gary back—and there was something that Malfoy was hiding; he could tell. He wouldn't have thought that Malfoy would hold out so long under the torture—he'd been such a baby in third year when the hippogriff had slashed his arm. People change, he figured.

Hermione was glaring at him—she was clearly angry that he was allowing this to go on. "Let's go, Hermione," Harry said firmly, hoping that she wouldn't refuse in front of Bryce.

He was right. Head high and angry, Hermione left the room ahead of Harry, already plotting her next move.

8


	19. Chapter 19

"I know you don't like the method, but if this helps us get Gary back, won't it be worth it?" Harry asked logically, jogging a bit to catch up to Hermione as she headed for the elevator that would take her out of the Ministry of Magic.

Hermione entered the elevator, pressing the button marked "L" for Lobby. Once they were both in the elevator alone, she answered coldly, "It won't get Gary back—he doesn't know anything."

"How do you know that? He was the one who kidnapped you, wasn't he?"

Hermione didn't answer him, looking away. She had no idea what to say. There were so many secrets that she was keeping from him—one wrong word could give them all away.

"Hermione," Harry pleaded, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to face him. "I can't help you or him if you don't tell me what's going on. Please help me understand—I know that you're hiding something!" His green eyes blazed with desperation.

Forced to meet the gaze of her best friend who clearly cared deeply about her, Hermione's resolve weakened. "He rescued me from them," she said helplessly, her shoulders sagging. The weight of carrying this alone was simply too much for her. The temptation of telling her familiar, kind friend was too great. "We've sort of been working together on this."

"What?" Harry's expression of utter amazement would have been comical had this been any other situation. Whether it was shock that she had disobeyed the law or shock that she was actually working with their childhood nemesis, Hermione didn't know. "Hermione, if you had told me you wanted a partner I would have given you one. You know that you can't work with a civilian on Auror business!"

"He's not just a civilian," she protested, her quick mind working hard to come up with an excuse for working with Draco Malfoy. If she told Harry that Malfoy was part of the Hunters, it would mean Malfoy's permanent imprisonment, as well as Mark's possible freedom. "He's a bounty hunter," she blurted out, waiting with bated breath to see what Harry would say. Would he believe her?

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Licensed?" he asked suspiciously.

"Of course," Hermione scoffed, bending down to retie her shoe in order to conceal her reddening face. She really hated lying to Harry.

Bounty hunters, while not technically a part of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, were allowed to bring in wanted criminals for a reward. A rigorous written and live test had to be passed in order to be licensed—anyone who brought in a wanted criminal without it did not receive the bounty for that criminal and was heavily fined. The number of criminals on the Wanted list was small and consisted of mainly small-time criminals—scam artists, petty thieves, etc. The bounty hunters were one step above a civilian. An Auror working with a bounty hunter wasn't strictly illegal—just frowned upon. Many Aurors used bounty hunters as informants.

Harry didn't look altogether convinced, but by then they had reached the lobby of the Ministry of Magic. Harry stepped out of the elevator. "I'm going to grab a bite to eat in the café, d'you want to come?" he asked, holding the door of the elevator. The lobby was quiet—the rush of people leaving for the evening had calmed down. Only a few wizards and witches milled around the room.

"I can't," she said wryly, remaining in the elevator. "I'm undercover, remember? I've got to try to get back to the group. They've changed headquarters."

Harry nodded, still looking worried. "Be careful, understand? If you hear any information about Gary, let us know—do _not _go after him yourself. And if what you told me is true, I'll work on getting Malfoy out of questioning."

"I understand." Hermione flashed Harry a smile that was much more confident than she felt.

"You can take a few days off, Hermione, you know that," Harry persisted. The lines of worry in his face had deepened over the past few months—being the head of the Auror Department and having the kind of temperament that he had wasn't easy. Harry cared about everyone; he took the burden of keeping everyone safe solely on his shoulders. Right now he was worrying about Hermione, Gary, Tonks, and his new baby boy.

Hermione resisted the urge to fall into his arms and tell him everything. "I already had three days off in St. Mungo's," she said lightly. "I'll see you later, Harry." She pressed the button for level two, and the elevator closed before Harry could say another word.

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently as she waited to arrive at her level. The moment the doors opened, she was outside the elevator, striding quickly towards her desk in the rows of cubicles that made up the Aurors' department.

It was just past 8 o'clock, judging by the clock on the wall, and the Auror offices were deserted. In times of crisis like this when one of their own was missing, the Aurors used the conference room as a place to confer and spread out all the information that they had on the long tables. Light and muted voices came from the conference room, but Hermione paid it no mind. She would be long gone before anyone realized that she was there.

Grabbing a quill and ink from her drawer, Hermione slid her filing cabinet open and swiftly flipped through the files. "Amulet Tests, Book Requisitions...Breeding Permits...aha! Bounty Hunter Licenses," she muttered triumphantly, pulling out a blank form.

Her pen moved furiously across the page as she carefully and meticulously filled out the license form with Draco Malfoy's information. She knew most of the information that the form required from her research into Malfoy when she suspected him as being the leader of the Hunters. Long minutes passed while she completed the three-page document. Thinking carefully, she dated the license for the previous year and stamped it with the crest of the Ministry of Magic.

Just as she put the finishing touches on the license form, she heard footsteps coming down the hallway from the elevator. Hermione fled into Harry's office, slipped the form into the file behind his desk with all of the other approved bounty hunter licenses, and ducked down behind his desk.

If she was caught, it would certainly mean the end of her career. Falsifying a Ministry document was a sure way to get fired. Even her close friendship with Harry wouldn't be enough to save her. Hermione hid under the desk, holding her body as still as possible, as the footsteps neared Harry's office. Dust choked the stale air under the desk, making it difficult to breathe easily. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest, so loudly that she feared the person would hear it.

Hermione watched in fear as the person walked around the desk towards the cabinet against the wall. Black shoes were all she could see as they halted directly in front of her. The cabinet swung open with a creak, followed by the soft sound of papers being shifted around.

"Let's see," Harry's voice murmured softly. Papers rustled. "Malfoy, Draco—licensed for over a year now..."

"Harry, we just received some information you need to see," came Neville Longbottom's voice from outside Harry's office.

"Of course," Harry said gratefully. The papers he was holding fell with a whoosh on the table.

Hermione watched in relief as Harry left the room. The moment he was gone, she scrambled out from under the table. After checking to make sure she was alone in the office, she went to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder out of the jar on the mantle. "The Leaky Cauldron," she whispered as she crept inside the roaring flames.

The main floor of the Leaky Cauldron was so busy this time of evening that no one even noticed Hermione Granger as she stumbled out of the dusty fireplace. She unobtrusively made her way to the stairs and to the floor that her room was located on. Once she was safely in her room, she collapsed on a chair and breathed a sigh of relief.

Her web of lies was growing perilously tangled. What she would do if she was caught, she had no idea_. I need to find Gary_, she thought firmly, willing herself not to contemplate things that hadn't even happened yet. She pulled out the silver key Malfoy had given her and gazed at it curiously. It was simply an ordinary key that could go to any lock anywhere in the world.

To find out where it led, she performed the same spell that she had used to find the Surrey Slasher.

Scrutinizing the map that had materialized in front of her, Hermione let out a groan when she realized what the key went to: a certain room in Malfoy Manor.

What could Malfoy possibly want her to find at his mansion? Even if she knew what to look for, it would take her ages to search the expansive rooms. Plus, it was probably crawling with Hunters.

Hermione's stomach growled loudly in the empty room, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in some time. Hastily grabbing an apple, she looked closer at the map, squinting to read the tiny print in a little bubble that appeared next to the X that marked the door that the key went to. "Wolfsbane," she read aloud. Juice from the apple dripped onto the parchment.

Hermione wiped it away impatiently. Malfoy locked rooms in his own house? That seemed odd, but then again, if he had his Hunters sleeping in his house, he probably needed his privacy. Why would he have given her a key to his bedroom? What could possibly be in there that would help her find Gary or help Malfoy prove his innocence? And what was "Wolfsbane," besides the name of a potion? Was it a password, or a clue as to what she was looking for?

"I guess I'll find out," she murmured, finishing up the last of her apple. It was late afternoon by this time. Her body protested, but Hermione made herself get up out of the comfortable chair in her room. It had been too long since she'd just relaxed and taken it easy. But Malfoy certainly wasn't relaxing right now—he was undergoing torture, and Hermione would be damned if he suffered even a moment longer than he had to. It was time to make preparations to go to Malfoy Manor.

A woman dressed all in black crept stealthily through the late-evening shadows that loomed over the massive courtyard of the equally-massive Malfoy Mansion. The fall evening was hot and sticky; even the fallen leaves on the grass didn't have the strength to break loudly underneath the careful steps of the intruder as she crept towards the front door. The hooting of a nearby owl was the only noise that rose above the crickets' chirping somewhere in the grass.

"Alohomora!" Hermione Granger whispered. The door unlocked immediately at her spell. She expected something a bit more secure than a mere locked door, but headed inside with no complaint.

The large house was ominously silent, though the chandeliers were lit and shining merrily. Her wand at the ready, Hermione quickly walked through the seemingly-empty house, her eyes flicking back and forth between her surroundings and the parchment map. She reached the East Wing of the house without seeing another soul, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw the door at the end that had to be the one she was looking for. She'd nearly reached it when four doors all around her suddenly opened at the same time.

"Oh no," Hermione breathed, realizing that she was surrounded by no less than eight Hunters, two in each doorway. The rooms behind them looked to be empty, unused rooms, as if they had been lying in wait for her. She dropped the parchment, her wand at the ready. Her free hand slid into her pocket automatically.

Marcus, the enormous black man who was the first Hunter Hermione had met, flashed white teeth at her in a feral grin.

"Back again?" said Shorty, one of the two Hunters who had come to her apartment after she'd escaped Malfoy Manor months ago.

"After your last intrusion here, Mr. Malfoy added a few additional alarms to the house," another Hunter informed her, grinning menacingly through crooked teeth. "He'll be most pleased when he finds out that we captured an intruder." He turned to his left, speaking to a short Hunter with gnarled fingers and a tangled beard. "Merlin knows we've had precious little else to do in the past month while he's been working on that damn 'secret mission.' Right, Ed?"

"Enough talking," growled Marcus, stepping forward. "Get her."

The Hunters closed in on both sides—Hermione had no choice but to run. Pulling her hand out of her pocket, she hurled the potion on the ground. The fragile glass vial shattered on impact, sending a whoosh of gray smoke into the air to hide her.

She charged forward towards the end of the hallway, only a hundred feet away. The yelling of the Hunters followed her down the hallway, mixed in with thuds and arguing as they all shoved against each other in pursuit.

Hermione ran for her life, reaching the door that the map had depicted faster than she'd thought was possible. Her shaking fingers pulled the key out of her pocket and slid it unerringly into the lock. She tried twisting the key, but it just turned uselessly all the way around in the lock—there was no sound of it actually unlocking anything.

The Hunters were seconds away from catching her, but her lightning-quick brain remembered the word that had been written on the parchment. "Wolfsbane," she gasped desperately. The lock clicked instantly and the door opened under the pressure of her shaking hand. Hermione stumbled inside the room and slammed it shut behind her, turning the lock securely.

She collapsed on the carpet, her back against the door. There must have been some sort of Silencing Charm on the room, because she could feel thumps against the door behind her, but no sound made its way into the room.

Not knowing how long she had until the Hunters managed to break the door down, Hermione began her exploration of the room. She was in what she remembered as Malfoy's bedroom. A large, comfortable bed took up a third of the room. A desk in the corner was covered in papers and books. Next to the desk was a glass cabinet upon which potions were neatly arranged. A portrait of a beautiful blonde woman that Hermione assumed was Narcissa Malfoy gazed down on her imperiously.

Though she knew that whatever she was searching for was probably not on the bookshelf, she found herself drawn to the two immense bookshelves that took over an entire wall of the room. They were completely filled with books of all sizes and length. Hermione scanned them, reading the titles. Some she recognized, some she didn't. She did notice, however, that there were quite a few who were on the Banned Books list at the Ministry.

A delighted gasp escaped her as she came upon a copy of "William Octavius: Theories on Transubstantial Transfiguration." Hermione couldn't help herself from pulling the book down and eagerly opening the rare tome. "I thought all of these were destroyed in the cursed fire of 1488!" Her hands shook as she read the first page of the ancient book, realizing that it was indeed an original copy of the book.

A vibration rolling through the room made her realize that she couldn't waste time. The Hunters were trying to get in with all their might. With regret, she replaced the book on the shelf and moved on towards the desk.

The simple desk of dark wood was covered in scratches beneath the papers that were scattered across it. Moving aside the spare pages of parchment and Daily Prophets as she looked for something that would aid her in her mission, Hermione found a black, leather-bound journal.

The cover had once been embroidered with "My Journal," but the words had long since been scratched out. Hermione opened it slowly, wondering what she would find inside. There was a fine line between searching Malfoy's room for clues and invading his privacy, but Hermione couldn't help herself.

The first page had a newspaper article taped inside of it. The large picture at the top showed Draco Malfoy with his parents standing on either side of him. His mother smiled brightly, while his father and Draco shared the same wry grin. Below the picture, in dark letters, were the words: Flying Coach Crash Kills Couple: Son Survives.

Hermione read on; Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had been killed two years previous when their flying coach was cursed out of the sky by an unknown witch or wizard. The coach had fallen hundreds of feet from the sky into a deep lake. The Healer who had examined the bodies said that Narcissa had died immediately on impact, while Lucius Malfoy survived just long enough to push his son's body from the wreckage before perishing himself.

Draco Malfoy's unconscious body was found on the edge of the lake by mediwizards just twenty minutes later, but it was impossible to save his parents.

Hermione turned the page with numb fingers; she'd had no idea what had happened to Malfoy's parents. When the tragic event had unfolded, she had been in Auror training and had no access to the newspapers that would undoubtedly have made this their prime story. The next article, dated a week after the first, was merely a recap of the previous one, but added that the identity of the attacker was still unknown. The articles pasted inside the leather journal became shorter and shorter as the weeks went on and no one knew who had killed the elder Malfoys.

Tears in her eyes, Hermione closed the book. The reason Malfoy had begun the Hunters, why he was terrified of deep water—it all made sense now. He must have started the Hunters in response to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad's failure to find the persons responsible for his parents' deaths. Tremors rocked the room beneath her, shaking Hermione out of her revelation. Malfoy must have done a terrific job making his room impervious to force, but surely it would eventually reach its limit. Seeing nothing else of importance in his room other than a collection of ordinary potions, Hermione wandered into the bathroom.

It was larger than any she had ever seen before, except for the prefect bathroom at Hogwarts. There were two sinks, but only the bigger one had a mirror above it. The large bathtub made her cringe with jealousy, but besides that, nothing useful was revealed. Just as she was about to leave the bathroom, a small indentation in the wall above the smaller sink caught her eye. It was the size of a Knut, no larger.

Hermione curiously touched it with her finger; the inside of the indentation wasn't solid like the wall around it. Instead, it felt like sand—soft, silky sand that began pulling her finger in slowly and inexorably, sucking her hand in next.

Hermione let out a startled shriek and tried to pull away, but the pressure on her hand and fingers increased, pulling her in faster. The sand soon took over her entire arm and began taking her shoulder in with it. Panicking, Hermione grabbed a hairbrush off the counter next to her and began banging it against the wall in a last-ditch effort to break free. This last resistance caused the wall to hasten its pulling and before she knew it, she was completely inside the wall. Seconds later, she was released from the sand and deposited lightly on the floor_ on the other side of the wall! _

Hermione dropped the hairbrush and smoothed her shirt with her hands, stunned by the fact that there was no sand anywhere on her or the ground. She was now on the opposite side of the bathroom wall, in a very small room that was teeming with random things. A small path through the room was the only clear area.

"This is where he keeps all his Dark artifacts," Hermione realized aloud as she saw the shriveled Hand of Glory sitting on top of a banned Dark Arts book. "Anything in here could be cursed..."

Pulling out her wand, she waved it in a looping pattern and said, "Cursus Revelio!" Immediately, a red halo of smoke settled over a corner of the room where a table stood, various objects arranged carefully on top of it.

Hermione made a mental note not to touch any of those items and instead perused the rest of the room. Having a room like this could send him to Azkaban for the rest of his life, she knew, gingerly picking up a glass ball with white powder flowing around the inside. She had no idea what most of these items were, but if Malfoy had gone to this much trouble to hide them, they were probably illegal. Suddenly, a particular piece that she _did _recognize caught her eye.

"No," she gasped, grinning as she picked it up. A medium-sized piece of metal, it had one end shaped like a horn and the other end was a small bowl. There was a small black switch on the side of it. Hermione gently blew off the dust that coated the object.

Highly rare and illegal, this was an ancient device that could drag any person or creature from anywhere in the universe. All it needed was some part of the person that the user wanted transported. Hermione brought the device back to the front of the room where she had entered. The hairbrush she'd hastily grabbed still lay on the floor. A few blond strands of hair were caught in it. Hermione carefully untangled the hairs and placed them in the small bowl at the end of the device.

Voices suddenly made their way through the wall from the bathroom. "—got to be in here somewhere!" growled an angry voice. "The Locator spell is pointing right at the wall!"

"Well she's certainly not _inside_ the wall, you fool!"

The Hunters must have made their way through to Malfoy's room, Hermione realized. Whatever she did, she would have to hurry. Her finger hovered uncertainly over the switch on the device. If the centuries-old device still worked, it would transport Malfoy right in front of her. He would disappear right from under the Ministry's nose, which would get him in huge trouble for "escaping."

If it was discovered that Hermione was the one behind it, she would go to jail as well. She wrestled with herself for long minutes. Was Malfoy worth it? Then she remembered the dream she'd had, and the words echoed in her head, _"This is what will follow if you put duty before compassion and your head before your heart."_

She sighed. Malfoy had saved her countless times, and she knew what he would do if she was in trouble. Job be damned—Hermione flipped the switch.

The device whirred to life, the blond strands of hair disappearing before her eyes.

"Look here!" cried a voice from outside the secret room.

She could hear the sand in the wall behind her sifting as it pulled one or more of the Hunters through it, but her gaze was on the vibrating device in front of her.

"Got her!" called a voice. Dirty hands from behind grabbed Hermione roughly. She was pulled close against the Hunter named Ed's chest, her wand ripped from her grasp by another. She was suddenly surrounded by Hunters, all of them sweaty and angry from trying so long to break into the room.

The device didn't seem to be working properly. Creaking noises emitted from the end of it as it shuddered in its efforts to work.

"Malfoy's going to be pleased that we caught _you,"_ hissed Ed. He held her wand mockingly above her head. "And you're going to tell him that it was _you_ who broke a window to get into room, not us," he threatened furiously, bringing back his hand to slap Hermione across the face. She took the slap without crying out, though a cut opened up on her cheek where his enormous gold ring hit her. "Before you go to the dungeons, we're going to make you wish you were never born," he whispered, licking her ear slowly.

Hermione shuddered but kept her cool, already working on a plan to reach her pocket, where she had a special potion that she'd brought along for just this situation.

A pulsating beam of light spewed forth from the horn-shaped end of the forgotten device and with a deafening bang, Draco Malfoy appeared in the center of the light. His arms were still bound behind his back and his legs didn't seem capable of supporting him very well, for he dropped to his knees. He looked worse than he had when Hermione had last seen him.

Haunted grey eyes took in the scene in front of him.

"Boss!" cried Marcus, utterly shocked.

The rest of the Hunters rushed to their leader, helping him to his feet. Marcus and Ed remained next to Hermione, making sure that she didn't move to escape.

"Get these fucking handcuffs off!" Malfoy ordered furiously. He turned his back to them so that they could reach his hands. Hermione wasn't the only one who gasped as his back was revealed. The back of his shirt had been shredded by what looked like lash marks. The skin of his back was marred with many bloody lines that looked like they were from a whip. Shorty and another Hunter cast several spells to get the handcuffs off.

"B-boss, I can't!" whined Shorty after a moment. "They're Auror handcuffs—I don't know how to get them off!"

"Hey, _she's_ an Auror." Marcus's deep voice spoke up before Malfoy could respond. He shoved Hermione forward while Ed continued to hold her arms behind her back. Hermione nearly fell, but managed to keep her footing while Malfoy turned around to see who they were talking about.

"Granger!" he growled. Though he had much more to say to her than that, he had a more pressing question on his mind. "How did you get into my room?" Malfoy asked, his voice weak but deadly. His question was directed not at Hermione, but at the Hunters.

"We followed_ her_," Marcus answered. "She broke a window to get in and we followed!" The insistent tone of his voice wasn't believable in the slightest.

"You've done just a marvelous job," Malfoy said, his tone saying otherwise. "Let her go; I'll handle her."

Torn between concern for Malfoy and anger that he was acting so ungrateful, Hermione couldn't speak. Several strands of hair had come loose from her ponytail fell into her eyes as Marcus exhaled in frustration and she blew them out of the way impatiently.

"Um, boss?" Shorty said hesitantly, clasping his hands in front of him defensively. His ruddy face was red and slightly sweaty. "What happened? Did they find out about us?"

"No," Malfoy said shortly. "Now get out of here."

"But you're unarmed!" protested Marcus, his fingers digging into Hermione's shoulder as he refused to let go. "What if she attacks you?"

"Are you saying you don't think I can handle her?" Draco asked dangerously. His eyes narrowed, making him look threatening even though his arms were bound behind him and his legs were trembling as he leaned against a cabinet full of forbidden books for support.

This was enough for Ed, who let go of Hermione's arms. Marcus, however, remained unconvinced. "I think you should let me stay here," he stated firmly.

"If you all do not leave this room this very second, I will make sure that you do not survive another day," Malfoy replied, giving the Hunters a look that made most of them pale. Every Hunter in the room except for Marcus disapparated.

"We captured the intruder," Marcus said stubbornly, searching for praise. Though he sounded strong, Hermione could feel his hand tremble on her shoulder as he stood up to his leader.

She took her chance. Marcus's attention was solely on Malfoy, so he was completely unprepared when Hermione ducked away from his restraining arms and hooked a leg behind his. Jerking her leg forward, she tripped Marcus, who fell heavily towards the ground. As he was in the process of falling, Hermione snatched her wand from his shirt pocket. By the time Marcus hit the ground, Hermione had her wand at his neck.

"If you move, I swear I'll arrest you on the spot," she growled, breathing hard.

Marcus groaned, feeling his head where it had connected with the floor. He glanced over to Malfoy, who had a half-smirk on his face.

"Leave," Malfoy ordered once more. "I'll be fine."

Marcus made no more protest. With the air of a dog with its tail between its legs, he got to his feet, turned on the spot, and disapparated. The moment he was gone, Malfoy sagged against the bookcase, as if he had spent the last of his energy putting up a brave front for the Hunters.

Hermione ran to him. Up close, she could see that he was shaking. Whether it was from exhaustion, cold, or fear, she didn't know. "I'll get these off," she promised quickly before he could say anything, tapping the handcuffs with her wand and murmuring the spell to unlock them. She gently pulled them off of his wrists, wincing as she saw the infected sores where they had been.

Malfoy brought his hands gingerly in front of him, biting his lip at the pain.

"Here," Hermione said, taking his hand gently in hers and rubbing his palm soothingly with her thumbs as the blood slowly returned to them. She massaged both hands for a few minutes, easing the pain. When his hands were a healthy pink once more, she let go.

"How do we get out of here?" she asked, wanting to get Malfoy to a chair. She knew that his legs couldn't support him much longer.

"Just push on the wall where you came in," Draco replied, leading the way with slow but sure steps. He leaned against the wall, appearing to slowly sink into it.

Hermione was alone in the room full of Dark objects. For just a moment, she toyed with the idea of leaving before she got herself in deeper to this crime of helping Malfoy. The thought flickered away just as soon as it came, and she leaned against the wall where Malfoy disappeared. Moments later, she found herself back in the bathroom, standing next to the sink.

Malfoy was at the larger sink, trying and failing to turn on the water with weak, shaking hands. "I need water," he gasped.

"Here, come sit down," Hermione replied, alarmed by his weakness. She pulled Malfoy's arm over her shoulder and half-dragged him to his bed, carefully avoiding the scattered glass from the shattered window.

Draco slumped against his pillows, his lips dry and chapped. Though she found it a bit ironic that he was begging for water just hours after being tortured with it, Hermione obliged. She leaned over Draco, held his head gently with one hand, and she murmured, "Aguamenti Minimo." A thin stream of water spouted from the end of her wand and directly into Draco's open mouth.

Malfoy swallowed water for a good minute before he sighed and relaxed against the bed.

Hermione brought him a potion from his table of potion marked "replenishing potion." Malfoy drank it immediately, feeling the potion nourish his empty stomach and return some strength to his limbs.

When Hermione moved to heal the sores on his wrists, he pushed her away, saying quietly, "It can wait until later. I want to sleep." He refused to look at her, gazing instead toward the portrait of his mother on the wall.

"Draco," Hermione said softly, taking his hand in hers. "Are you all right?"

Though his face was turned away, Hermione could feel his breathing quicken.

"I know how they tortured you," she said, guilt choking her words slightly. "It must have been—"

Draco Malfoy pulled away from her at these words, facing her straight on. "How can you even _imagine_ what they did to me?" he said quietly. Pain lurked behind his grey eyes, threatening to come to the surface and consume him. His face was lined with stress and unshaven. The usually clean and shiny blond hair was dirty and matted. He still exuded an air of power and strength, but he was clearly wounded emotionally as well as physically. "For _three days_, they repeatedly drowned me in water while I was chained to a chair. They shocked me with lightning every time I fell asleep. I was given no food or water, except what I swallowed by accident during the torture. They forced me to my knees and whipped me continuously in front of a mirror, forcing me to watch my own humiliation." He broke off as he choked up. It took a moment for him to recover.

Hermione said nothing, transfixed by the raw emotion on his face; the mask he usually wore was completely gone.

"They knew everything about my past—everything that could hurt me. There were no holds barred—no law or sanction to protect me. The only thing that they cared about was breaking me so completely that they could extract the information they're after from my defeated mind."

Draco glared at Hermione defiantly, his jaw set with fury. Hermione could barely meet his intense gaze. The first response that jumped to her mind was her knee-jerk ardent defense of the post-Voldemort laws that made such interrogations possible, but she pushed past it. The words that she said next surprised them both.

"It's completely and utterly wrong," she said fiercely, her brown eyes blazing with passion.

Draco froze, thrown off guard that Hermione Granger had gone against her precious Ministry of Magic.

"And I'm sorry about your parents," Hermione continued softly, hoping that this wouldn't set him off again. The anger bled away from Draco's face, leaving grief in its wake. Before his anger could flare up again, Hermione reached for his hand, saying quietly, "Let me heal you." A veil was slowly lifting from her eyes. Draco had gone through extraordinary torture when he could have made it stop in an instant by telling them that Hermione had recruited him to help her. It may have been simple self-preservation, if he feared she would then reveal him to be in the Hunters, but somehow she didn't think so.

"I can do it myself," Malfoy replied, his voice regaining its normal haughty tone.

"With what wand?" Hermione retorted, pulling out hers.

Malfoy didn't protest again. Hermione took the initiative to cautiously pick up one of his wrists. With a quietly-spoken spell, she healed the gashes on his wrist. Another charm reduced the bruises until they were so faint they could barely be seen. Then she did the same with the other wrist. The entire time Draco just watched, silent, while she carefully healed him.

When his wrists were entirely healed, Hermione moved on. "Turn over," she directed, her voice hesitant.

Malfoy did as she said, lying on his stomach. The shredded strips of his shirt tangled beneath him. In order to see better, Hermione vanished the ruined shirt entirely, letting out a sympathetic gasp as she saw the whip marks on his back for the second time. Dried blood lined the edges of the criss-crossed lash marks.

Psychological torture was the specialty of the interrogators. For physical torture, they were indeed allowed to use the Cruciatus Curse, though most preferred psychological torture as a way to break their subjects. For proud, arrogant Draco Malfoy, being forced to watch himself as he was whipped mercilessly—and on his knees, no less—was devastating.

The actual gashes on his back were very thin, designed to cause extreme pain, but not enough to put the victim in danger of passing out from blood loss. Hermione waved her wand slowly across the marks on Draco's back, speaking a complicated incantation to heal them while minimizing scarring. The lash marks slowly shrank and disappeared.

Realizing that Draco was probably not in any condition to bathe at the moment, Hermione cast a Cleansing Charm on him, removing all of the dirt, sweat, and blood instantly from his body and hair.

Not saying a word, Hermione watched as Draco's clean back rose and fell slowly with his breathing. Without thinking, she reached out and gently touched his now-healed back. His skin was warm and smooth—Hermione's breathing quickened, though she didn't quite know why.

Malfoy slowly turned over so that he was lying on his side, his eyes searching for hers. As their eyes met, Hermione found herself blushing slightly. "Does anything still hurt?" she asked hoarsely, off-guard by the intensity of the moment. Her hand now rested on his abdomen.

Draco shook his head in reply. He sat up, and Hermione quickly moved her hand away. Draco caught that hand, however, and pulled it back, bringing Hermione close to him. Perched on the edge of the bed, Hermione found her face inches away from Draco's. Draco had a look on his face that Hermione had never seen before: a mix of lingering hurt, a tinge of gratitude, relief, anxiety, and something else that she couldn't quite put her finger on. She found her eyes locked on his. Her hand burned in his grasp as heat from her blush traveled down her body.

"I have to—"Midway through Hermione's half-hearted excuse to leave, Draco closed the distance between them, his lips pressing against hers. Hermione's lips parted instinctively as she let out a surprised gasp. Draco pulled her into his lap. Hermione found herself straddling muscled legs and pressed up against Draco's chest as his mouth devoured hers. The kiss was insistent and powerful as Draco poured all of his emotions into it. Hermione found herself kissing him back. She had really come to care about him—seeing him tortured had been nearly unbearable for her, especially since he was the one who had risked his life just to save hers.

Draco was wounded—emotionally, though no longer physically. She knew that he needed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting out an involuntary moan. Kissing him this time was different, powerful.

Draco leaned backwards against the pillows on the bed, taking her along with him without breaking the kiss. Heat burned between them as Hermione lay on top of him, stroking his hair gently with her fingers. Something wet touched her cheek, and she opened her eyes for just a moment to see a tear slide down Draco's face to hers. She clung to him all the more tighter, trying desperately to ease the emotional pain he was feeling from the torture.

They kissed hungrily for long minutes, their heavy breathing the only sounds in the room. It was more than sexual—it was two people clinging to each other for dear life. Their kisses grew slower and slower, longer and longer, until Hermione realized that Draco had slowly drifted into sleep.

She drew back, watching Draco's lips remain parted as he breathed slowly and deeply. His face was relaxed and peaceful in sleep—he must be exhausted after three days of not being allowed to rest for even a moment.

Hermione kissed him once more on the forehead, wondering what this had all meant. Before her mind had a chance to begin analyzing the past night, she found herself falling asleep curled up against Draco's warm body.


	20. Chapter 20

A cold, tingling sensation swept through Hermione's sleeping body. She shivered uncomfortably and shifted closer to the warmth of the man she had fallen asleep next to. He sleepily wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. Hermione fell back asleep almost immediately.

The cold sensation returned minutes later, running down her arm and back up again. Hermione finally opened her eyes unhappily. She jerked in surprise as she realized that the coldness was coming from the antlers of a stag Patronus, which stood patiently next to the bed. Sunlight flowed through the shattered window behind it, and Hermione realized that it was Harry's Patronus.

"Hermione," Harry's voice spoke, invading her morning most inconveniently. "Where are you? If you don't reply within the next hour, I'm going to assume you need help and I'll send Aurors after you. We need to talk. You had better not have had anything to do with Malfoy's escape." Its message delivered, the Patronus slowly faded away into wisps of smoke.

Hermione stared at the spot where it had been. She was now wide awake. If a Patronus could find her, then chances were that a Locator Charm would be able to find her as well. If she were questioned, she would have to admit that she was the one responsible for Draco's escape; she bore no Veritaprotego tattoo. It would mean the end of her career and very likely her freedom as well. She had no idea how long it had been since Harry had first sent the Patronus to find her—it could have been an hour ago, for all she knew!

An arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back beside its owner's body, distracting Hermione completely. "Good morning," she said, a bit shyly. She'd never spent the night with a man before, in any context. This was quite new to her. Would things be awkward between them? Butterflies fluttered around in her stomach.

Draco kissed her neck in reply to her good morning and then pulled her flush against him, kissing her deeply. Hermione's lips curved into a smile against his as she kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him and reveling in the way he felt against her. Draco broke the kiss after a few moments and began planting slow kisses along her jaw and neck.

"Draco," Hermione gasped, a pleased moan escaping her lips.

"Mmmm...yes?" he asked, looking up at her. His grey eyes danced wickedly.

"I have to contact Harry," she replied faintly. In direct contradiction to her words, her head fell back against the pillow, baring her throat in an unconscious invitation as she sighed with pleasure.

"So I hear," Draco murmured, his breath cool against her neck. His tongue swept across her throat and Hermione shivered. "But first..." He leaned up and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, gazing intently into her eyes. Puzzled by the light touch of his lips instead of the deep, all-consuming kisses that they had shared previously, Hermione looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

"Thank you," he said quite seriously, all traces of teasing gone.

Hermione swallowed hard, surprised by his gratitude. "You're welcome."

Draco's demeanor was entirely different than the previous night. His face was relaxed, if a little sleepy. His eyes were peaceful and alight. She saw no sign of the pain and devastation that had taken complete control of his countenance hours before.

"I have to ask," he said, breaking the silence. "How did you get into my secret room?"

"I was trying to figure out what you wanted me to find," Hermione said, confusion creeping onto her face at his abrupt subject change. "Didn't you send me there to find something to save you?"

Draco shook his head in disbelief. "If I'd wanted you to risk your job to save me, I would have just convinced you to break me out of there when I saw you. Did you honestly think that I expected you to somehow locate a secret room that you didn't even know existed just by giving you a key that unlocks a door somewhat near it?"

Now that he said it out loud, Hermione realized that it did seem a bit farfetched. "Then why did you send me here?" she answered. Her forehead crinkled in confusion, making Draco smirk.

"On my desk is a letter from August, along with a Portkey that leads to their current hideout," he explained slowly, keeping most of the condescension out of his voice, but not all. "I wasn't asking you to save me—I was trying to help you find your missing Auror."

Realization swept across Hermione's face, along with a hint of embarrassment that she had missed the obvious and went straight for the more difficult path. "Oh," she mumbled, staring up at the ceiling to avoid eye contact. Was he saying that he wished she hadn't rescued him? Or did he just care about her and her job? The jumble of strange new feelings that had started to blossom inside her was so confusing. She traced random patterns on his arm absently for a few minutes as she thought of what to say.

"I have a few questions for you," Draco finally said, his low voice filling the silence. He wanted the situation back to its previous connotation. "I want you to be honest." He rolled over smoothly so that he was no longer lying next to her, but above her. He braced himself on his arms.

"I'm always honest," Hermione replied, a bit offended.

Draco pressed a finger to her lips gently, murmuring, "Hush." Before Hermione could reply indignantly, he moved his mouth to just below her ear, gently sucking on the sensitive spot between her jawbone and her neck. He was rewarded by a heavy exhalation as Hermione shivered. "Who was the last person that you kissed?" he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. It was the most arousing sensation she'd ever felt.

"Y-You were," Hermione stuttered, finding it difficult to form proper sentences as Draco slowly traced her ear with his tongue. His hand traveled lightly down her side and over her chest, barely touching her shirt. It was exquisitely torturous enough to make her arch up against him instinctively.

"And before that?" Draco slid his arm around her body and pulled her up hard against him.

"Ron," she breathed, so lost in the sensations she was feeling that she could barely think, let alone get upset at the thought of her deceased boyfriend.

Draco caught her lips with his, pleased that he was right about her. He still remembered Fynn's accusations, though he knew now that they were wholly untrue. Hermione Granger was virgin. No woman that he'd ever met was able to lie to him during this kind of "questioning," so he knew that she was telling the truth that he was the last man he'd kissed.

Usually, this sort of revelation would have turned him off. He had sworn to himself a long time ago that he would never take a woman's virginity; it caused too many problems, and ultimately wasn't worth it in the end. Yet...in some way, the realization that she hadn't been with another man before pleased him. Hermione was different than other women he had met. The memory of the night previous was so intense and so profound that revisiting it in his mind made him shudder. What did this all mean?

"What?" Hermione asked breathily, noticing the shudder.

"Nothing," Draco said quickly, brushing his thoughts away from his mind. He lowered his mouth to her shoulder and kissed her there, moving slowly towards her neck. Instead of holding himself above her with his braced arms, he settled his body down on top of hers, letting out a barely-audible moan at the contact.

At his soft moan, shivers traveled down Hermione's spine—it was incredibly erotic. When Draco gently bit down just above her collarbone, Hermione whimpered with desire and clutched his bare back, her nails raking across his skin.

Draco hissed through his teeth and Hermione froze, thinking that she'd hurt him by touching the place where he had been wounded the night before. "I'm sorry," she whispered softly, instantly letting go of him.

Draco raised his head to reveal his face. His eyes were heavy with desire, his lips red from kissing. "I like it," he growled, taking her head in his hands and kissing her forcefully on the lips.

Hermione felt like she was falling into his kiss. She was on fire for him, drowning in him, drowning with him. It was unlike anything she'd experienced before. It was so real, so present.

A sudden sound from outside made Hermione pause mid-kiss. Draco cocked his head questioningly as she stiffened beneath him.

"What's—"

Hermione silenced him immediately with a hand over his mouth, listening hard. For several moments, she heard nothing. Then, floating through the broken window came a voice. "It's pointing up there," the deep voice said, sounding as if it was coming from the ground below the broken second story window.

"That's Kingsley," Hermione gasped. "They must have used a Locator Charm to find me! Or you," she amended, remembering that he was now considered to be an escaped criminal. "We have to get out of here!"

"I'd rather fight the bastards," Draco snarled, sliding off the bed onto his feet with catlike grace.

Hermione grabbed him by the arm as she got to her feet and pulled him to face her. "You. Have. No. _Wand!"_ she hissed.

"Then just where do you propose we go?" Draco retorted, his voice still hushed to avoid the notice of the Aurors outside. He strode over to his wardrobe and pulled out a new shirt and a clean pair of pants.

"Can't we hide in your secret room?" Hermione asked desperately, grabbing her wand off the floor where it had fallen the night before.

"If they come into my house, they'll know that I'm a Hunter since the rest of the Hunters are still here," Draco pointed out, quickly changing into clean clothes. "I don't have enough time to warn them to get out." He ran his fingers through his hair, thinking hard. "We can go to my parents' old place in London. Give me your wand so I can apparate us there."

Hermione looked at his outstretched hand, hesitating slightly. Handing her wand over to Draco would mean that she trusted him. She realized, as she slowly passed over her wand, that she _did_ trust him.

Draco sent many silver wisps of smoke from Hermione's wand. Hermione could see that it was copies of his Patronus, but she couldn't tell exactly what form it took.

"Warning my Hunters," Draco explained when he saw her confused look. "We need to distract your Aurors so they don't come in before the Hunters get out of here."

Hermione warred with her conscience. The Hunters were criminals, and she desperately hated most of them. It would make her so very happy if most or all of them (with the exception of Draco of course) were arrested and imprisoned for life. Still, if Hunters were discovered inside Malfoy Mansion, it was only a short leap for the Aurors to figure out that Draco was involved with them as well. She made her decision.

"All right. But we don't know if they used the Locator Charm on me or on you," she said. "If it was used on you, then I'm still safe and they don't know that I'm here with you."

Draco was shaking his head before she even finished her sentence. "The Veritaprotego tattoo protects me from Locator Charms. If they used a Locator Charm, it was on you. They know you're here."

"Then I have to go out and distract them," Hermione murmured, butterflies in the pit of her stomach. These were her Aurors, her friends, and she was going to openly defy them. "They have to see me disapparate, or else they'll tear your house apart looking for me. I'm going to talk to him. You have my wand—make sure you come after me."

Before Draco could agree to or protest her plan, Hermione stepped lightly away from him, swung her legs over his windowsill, and disappeared from view.

Draco gasped and rushed to the window, looking down anxiously. Hermione was being levitated carefully to the ground by Kingsley Shacklebolt while another Auror stood close by.

Hermione's feet touched the ground gently as she regained her footing. As she'd predicted, Kingsley had broken her freefall from Draco's bedroom window. Standing beside him was Harry. He looked sadly at her, his wand held loosely by his side. He expected no attack from her.

"Hermione," he said, betrayal in his eyes. Having located Hermione at Malfoy's house, he knew now that it had been she who had somehow helped him escape. "You're under arrest for helping Malfoy escape."

"It was wrong what you were doing to him," Hermione said quietly.

"I was two hours away from having him released," Harry replied angrily. "I found his bounty hunter license. So guess what? Now you're under arrest and Malfoy's the one who's free."

"Are you serious?" Hermione exclaimed.

"You have no idea how much this hurts me. The Minister wants to make an example of you," Harry explained unhappily, sweating under the heat of the hot sun and the stress he was under by having to confront the friend that he loved. "He doesn't care about Malfoy, since he was going to be released anyway. An Auror breaking a suspect out of interrogation, however..." He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. "I can't do anything about your arrest, but I will do my best to get you out of Azkaban as soon as possible. I hope you know that you've pretty much lost your job for good, though."

Hermione realized just how serious this was as Harry said those words. To hear those words from him was even more terrible than if she had heard them from anybody else. "Harry, I'm sorry," she said, putting her hand gently on his arm. She would make just one attempt to dissuade him. "But I had to do what's right. And I have to save Gary. I'm the only one who has gotten close enough to the curse-makers to possibly be able to find him, if he's even still alive."

"You don't have a choice," Harry replied, looking as if he were about to cry. Not having the heart to arrest her himself, he nodded to Kingsley. "Arrest her."

A tear slid from Hermione eye as her best friend gave the order for her arrest. "I'm sorry, Harry," she repeated once more as she heard a whooshing sound from behind her. Her feet were suddenly swept off the ground as she was violently grabbed around the waist and pulled close to a male body. Draco swung her around and placed her behind him on the state-of-the-art, ridiculously expensive Supernova broomstick. The broomstick took them away so quickly that Hermione only had time to catch a glimpse of Harry throwing out an arm to stop Kingsley from sending some sort of curse or spell after her.

Hermione clung to Draco with all of her strength, burying her face into his back to protect it from the wind whipping by. They traveled for about a minute, flying higher and higher through the clouds. As they reached a height where the air was thin and hard to breathe, she felt Draco saying something, but the words were lost in the wind because of their extreme speed.

"What?" she yelled.

Without warning, Draco pulled the broomstick out from under them and they went into freefall.

"Draco!" screamed Hermione as they plummeted towards the ground, their momentum increasing with every moment. Draco's hand locked on her arm. Just seconds before their impact, Hermione felt herself being pulled into Side-Along Apparition.

When the pushing and squeezing of Apparition finally ceased, Hermione found herself clutching Draco's arm in the center of a small kitchen. Dust and cobwebs made it hard to breathe properly.

"Are you absolutely _insane_?" Hermione shrieked, taking a deep breath and coughing as dust caught in her throat. "We could have been killed!"

Draco dropped his broomstick on the counter, waved Hermione's wand in a large loop, and said nonchalantly, "Scourgify." The kitchen was instantly clean, the counters shiny and free of dust. He was calm and collected—he wasn't even breathing hard! "In case you were unaware of this tiny yet important fact, one needs to be able to _turn on the spot_ in order to disapparate," he said, a bit scathingly. "You cannot do this while sitting on a broomstick, but it's possible while in freefall."

Hermione snatched her wand away from him, her breathing erratic. She glared ferociously at him.

"You're welcome for saving you from Saint Potter and his posse of one," Draco said contemptuously. "Unless you wanted to be arrested? Because I could certainly arrange for you to be transported back there..."

Still recovering from the adrenaline rush of nearly dying, Hermione fell into silence, glaring around the room as she took in her surroundings. They were in a neat, though clearly unused for some time, kitchen. A window above the sink looked out to a beautiful view of London.

"You own a penthouse in London?" she asked disbelievingly, looking down at the streets below.

"Legally, it's owned by my uncle's ex-wife's dead sister in law," Draco said, coming up beside her to gaze down at the bustling city. "But yes. And the Ministry will never be able to trace it to me. The wards around it also protect from Locator Charms."

"They aren't after you anymore," Hermione informed him. "I falsified a Ministry document to make it seem like you've been a licensed bounty hunter for a year, so I could get you released earlier."

The view from the window was incredible. Hermione could see most of the city from where she stood. But this was no time to enjoy the view. "I can't believe Harry was going to arrest me," she murmured softly. She turned to Draco, the corners of her mouth turned down in sadness. "I mean, I knew that what I did was illegal, but I can't believe that he was actually going to do it."

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione suddenly cried, "Wait! He wasn't going to arrest me because he wanted to—he was going to do it because of the Minister to save face in front of the public. It's all about publicity! If I arrest this 'Maximilian,' or whoever is responsible for the curses, the Minister can't arrest me! Imagine how bad it would look to the public..."

"An admirable idea," Draco said wryly. "However, you can't go back undercover since your Polyjuice Potion is in your room at the Leaky Cauldron, and you can bet that Potter's going to search it and get rid of everything the second he can."

"Not if I beat him to it," Hermione said. She threw open the window and quickly waved her wand, saying firmly, "Accio Polyjuice Potion!"

Draco made a snort of disbelief from next to her, but Hermione ignored it as she concentrated fully on the Summoning Charm. Just minutes later, ten bottles of Polyjuice Potion soared swiftly through the window and landed on the counter at Hermione's direction.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise. Hermione smirked at him. "They teach us long-range spells," she explained, pleased that she had surprised him with her skills. "Oh, and while we're at it..." She concentrated once more on another Summoning Charm, this one nonverbal, and before Draco knew it, his wand soared through the window and landed in his palm. "They were going to let you go," she told him. "Otherwise, your wand would've been under lock and key and no summoning charm would have worked." Her face grew serious as she turned to the counter and pulled the stopper off of one of the vials. "I need to get back to Lorelei and her group," she said determinedly, turning to face Draco. "I have to rescue Gary. I'm not asking you to come with me, but I am asking that you help me get there."

Draco eyed Hermione cautiously for a few moments before he answered. Frustration and disagreement showed on his face as he said reluctantly, "I'll come with you. But you have to promise me that you'll forget about him if it seems like our cover is going to be blown."

Hermione paused, biting her lip in thought. She realized that this was the best she was going to get and nodded slowly. "I promise."

Draco pulled a small brass knob from his pocket and held it up to show her. "This is a Portkey that will take us to wherever Lorelei's hideout is," he said. "It's activated by a word that I'll tell you when I'm not holding it." 

"Wait a minute," Hermione said. When he said Lorelei's name, she remembered something odd. "If Lorelei is Mark's brother, doesn't she know that you're a Hunter? Why would she let you in her group?"

"All of the Hunters have made an Unbreakable Vow not to reveal themselves as a member to anyone," Draco explained. "She doesn't know."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Hermione said, quickly downing one of the vials of Polyjuice Potion. Draco watched with fascination as her body changed before his eyes into that of her alias.

"I can't wear this," Hermione realized in panic as she looked down at the now slightly-too-large Auror uniform she was wearing.

"Come with me," Draco said, smirking. He led her through the living room and into a bedroom. Though the living room had had a fine coating of dust, the bedroom was clean and dust-free. A dark green velvet comforter covered a large bed with a white sheer canopy. Draco briskly went to the light oak wardrobe and threw it open, searching through the clothes hanging there.

"Why do you have female clothes here?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"They're my second cousin's," Draco replied, his voice muffled by the clothes he was digging through. "She uses the penthouse on occasion, but she's been in Switzerland for the past six months on her honeymoon. Aha!" He had found what he was looking for. He held it up.

"No," Hermione said the moment she saw it. "Oh, no. No. No way. _Hell _no."


	21. Chapter 21

"You look great," Draco said with a smirk, his hand on Hermione's elbow as he steered her down the hallway of the abandoned construction site that the Portkey had dragged them to.

"I will kill you, I promise," Hermione threatened, trying to pull down the hem of the short dress she had been forced to wear. The all-black dress was low-cut in the front, showing more cleavage than Hermione would have preferred to wear. The corset-style top of the dress melded into a lacy skirt that went mid-thigh. Her wand was tucked into the side of the corset along her side. Draco had insisted that she wear the dress to fulfill her role as an auction girl. While Hermione had seen the way that Ariana had dressed, she hadn't considered that she would have to do the same.

"Draco!" called August Sappington's harsh voice from in front of them. "Where have you been? The auction is about to start."

"My apologies," Draco said coolly, slipping back into the role that he played so often. "Brooke here didn't get her letter from you so I had to fetch her myself."

"Yes," said August wryly as he reached them, looking Hermione up and down. "I'll bet you did. Let's go."

"Who is heading the auction?" Draco asked, following August as he led the way down the empty hallways.

"You are," August spat, his voice managing to sound even more unnerving when he was angry. "She's decided to make you her little pet. That's completely fine with me. But once I have my new hideout, you're staying here with her. I don't want you in my faction anymore."

Draco remained silent. Hermione's high heels clicked softly on the ground as she tried to keep up with the two other men.

"Draco, in here," August said, directing Draco into a room to their left. "Lorelei will teach you the curses that you'll be showing at auction. Brooke, come with me."

Hermione watched nervously as Draco entered the room without looking back. A small flash of jealousy had gone through her when she heard August call Draco Lorelei's "little pet," but that was just a small annoyance in the grand scheme of things. Draco would be heading the auction—did that mean that he would have to actually use one of those terrible curses as a demonstration for the audience? And where was Gary? She knew that she would have to make it through this auction before she could search the place. It simply wouldn't do to bring the entire gang down onto her head by fleeing to try to find Gary.

"Miss Locke, please come through here," August said, opening a door for Hermione. "I assume that you know what to do in your role as auction host."

Hermione nodded confidently, though all she had was Draco's hasty instructions before they left. She stepped through the door in front of him, holding back a gasp as she realized that she was in a roomful of people. About fifteen men milled about the room, all fashionably dressed with drinks in hand. Unlike the rest of the building, this room was fully finished. The walls were painted a soothing blue color and comfortable auditorium seats lined the floor. A stage at the front was brightly lit by an overhead chandelier. As Hermione walked in, the room hushed as every eye turned to her. The men immediately found their way to seats.

"The curses we have up for today are the Tonguetwister Curse and the Acid curse," August murmured in her ear.

_Not very creative names_, Hermione thought to herself. Nervousness bubbled up in her stomach as August strode away from her and into a seat in the audience. Every eye was on her as she stood, frozen with fear, in the doorway. Suddenly, a clear picture of Gary came into her mind. She realized that she had to do this for him. Pasting a warm smile on her face, she strode confidently up to the stage. All she had to do was remember what Ariana had done at the last auction.

"Hello," she said brightly as she reached the stage. She looked down at the people below her, trying to keep her disgust for them off her face. They were despicable human beings, every one of them. "Welcome to our auction. I'm Brooke Locke, and I'll be your host for this afternoon. We have two items up for bidding today, and we accept Galleons only as payment."

A soft click at the back of the room drew her attention, as well as everyone else in the silent room. Draco Malfoy strode into the room confidently, his face cool and expressionless. He looked resplendent in the solid black suit and green tie that he had donned before they left his penthouse in London. He made his way to the stage. Lorelei slipped through the door that Malfoy had come from and took a seat near August.

"This is Draco Malfoy, who will be demonstrating our products for today," Hermione said, hoping no one would hear the hitch in her voice as she spoke his name. She searched his eyes for some clue as to what the plan was. Draco finally reached her side and met her gaze briefly, his face inscrutable. Receiving no help from him, Hermione turned back to the audience, clasping her hands in front of her casually so no one would see them shaking.

"Without further ado, this is the first curse: The Tonguetwister Curse," Hermione announced, hoping that her unease didn't show.

One of Lorelei's men strode to the stage, dragging a sobbing middle-aged woman behind him. She appeared to be Silenced, for which Hermione was deeply grateful. Her gratitude didn't last for long, however, because with a wave of his wand, the man who'd pulled her up there took off the Silencing Charm. "Help me!" the woman screamed, pleading with the audience, all of whom had interested, unsympathetic faces.

Hermione felt sick.

Beside her, Draco slowly removed his wand from the pocket of his suit jacket. He raised it over the woman who curled up on the stage in front of him, begging for mercy. His eyes locked with Hermione's, just for a second, and she saw the resignation and self-hatred in his eyes. Then he looked away, muttered an incantation under his breath, and waved his wand in a jagged, complicated movement. The woman let out a high-pitched scream and grabbed at her mouth.

Hermione fixed her gaze firmly on the audience, refusing to look to her right and see what was happening to the woman, refusing to look at Draco's face. She understood that he was making this sacrifice, this blow to his personal integrity not to hurt the innocent, in order to save Gary's life. But it didn't make this any easier.

The audience watched in morbid fascination as the woman's tongue grew longer and longer, choking her throat as it slithered out of her mouth and continued growing, wrapping around her neck and chest, suffocating her as well as obstructing her breathing. The woman's tongue constricted her body slowly but surely. The woman continued letting out garbled shrieks that grew fainter and fainter until she collapsed on the ground with a thud.

Now that the show was over, the audience looked at Hermione expectantly. Hermione blinked several times, trying to recover from the horrific scene she had just witnessed. "We're going to start the bidding at 400 Galleons," she murmured, her voice low and husky with unshed tears.

Luckily for her, the audience took her tone as sultry instead of tear-choked. The bidding commenced. A stocky, black-mustached man was the winner with a bid of 850 Galleons.

"And finally, we have the Acid Curse," Hermione informed the audience once the dead woman had been removed from the room.

Lorelei's man reentered the room, this time levitating the body of an unconscious young teenager in front of him. He was clearly too heavy to drag. Lorelei's man placed the young man in front of Draco on the stage and muttered, "Ennervate." Blue eyes blinked heavily as the sandy-haired young man opened his eyes.

Cold horror coursed through Hermione's body as she recognized who the teenager was. "Gary," she breathed. The audience didn't hear her, but Draco did. His gaze snapped from Gary to Hermione and back again. His face, always pale, turned absolutely stark white as he realized what had happened. Instead of being locked in the cages, Gary was in front of him, so that he would have no choice but to curse him.

Gary Saunders, Hermione's friend and fellow Auror, slowly shifted into a sitting position. He looked gaunt and exhausted, but a glimmer of recognition shone in his eyes as he saw Draco standing above him. "Mr. Malfoy?" he stammered, struggling to his feet. He didn't recognize Hermione in Brooke's body, of course.

Draco aimed his wand at Gary, preparing to speak the curse. Hermione's heartbeat pounded in her chest. What could she do? Two of them versus every man in the room plus Lorelei and August. She was hopelessly outnumbered, just like last time.

"I'm an Auror," Gary said, his voice cracking a little as he tried to face down Draco Malfoy. "Put your wand down!"

The audience burst into hysterical laughter at Gary, their raucous laughter startling him. Draco hesitated, his wand on Gary as the young Auror faced the crowd uncertainly. _He won't do it,_ Hermione told herself, pleading inwardly to Draco. She had promised that she would leave Gary if it would blow their cover, but she just could not follow through with it. If Draco murdered Gary, she would kill him, she really would. _ Please don't let him do it! _

In that instant, everything seemed to spring into action. Without warning, Draco lunged forward and grabbed Gary by the back of his shirt. "Go!" he shouted to Hermione, pushing Gary in front of him as he ran for the door that they had come in through. He moved so quickly and with such immediate speed that he was outside the room with Gary before anyone could react to stop him.

Lorelei and August leapt to their feet, fury in their eyes as they screamed in unison for their henchmen to follow Draco. The moment Draco and Gary made it out of the room, a loud crack signaled their disapparation. The audience burst into chatter. Some men spoke up angrily, while others seemed to be merely curious.

Hermione, on the other hand, remained still and unmoving at the microphone. In all the confusion, August and Lorelei appeared to have assumed that Draco had yelled "Go!" to Gary, not her. She had decided in that split second to stay and see if she could find "Maximilian" in all of the confusion. While Lorelei furiously explained what happened to the six men who had come to her aid, August merely watched, his sharp eyes traveling around the room. His eyes finally lingered upon Hermione, who could feel herself pale more than she already was.

"Everyone, please calm down," she said soothingly above the crowd, hoping to defuse August's suspicion by helping out. To her disbelief, the grumbling audience actually quieted, staring back up at Hermione expectantly. Even Lorelei lowered her voice and directed her henchmen out of the room, leaving Hermione handle the angry potential customers. Now that she had their full attention, however, she had no idea what to do.

August folded his arms across his chest interestedly. Hermione attempted a joke. "Well, that gave a new meaning to the phrase 'stage fright.'" She watched their faces carefully. A few men grinned, and one even chuckled. "Rest assured, you will still have a chance to bid on the Acid Curse at a later date. How many of you would like to see the Acid Curse performed on our escaped friend back there?"

Loud affirmations met her ears. August watched her carefully, clearly wondering where she was going with this. "For your patience and continued loyalty, you will all be invited back for another auction, during which we will have _three _curses up for bidding instead of just two. Also, we'll be demonstrating our curse on Mr. Malfoy, since he has apparently decided that he'd rather save a worthless teenager than do his job."

The malicious and vindictive personalities of the audience showed through as every single man rose to his feet and cheered. A half-smile showed on August's face as he watched her cater to the needs and desires of the audience before her. As Hermione met his eyes warily, he nodded slightly. Relief relaxed the young woman's tense muscles a little.

August took the stage and concluded the auction. "Mr. Magnus Campbell," he said to the man who had now purchased the Tonguetwister Curse. "Brooke will escort you to a room where you will learn your new curse."

The stocky man grinned and approached Hermione.

"Hello, sir," Hermione greeted him, smiling. She hoped that her smile was genuine enough; her nerves were so wired and jumpy that she had to consciously will herself to relax.

"Why hello, Miss Locke," Magnus replied, a southern twang in his accent. "I just can't wait to learn this excitin' new curse!" The pleasure in his tone made Hermione cringe inwardly with disgust. She didn't just want to arrest the creator of these curses, she wanted to arrest every damn wizard or witch who had ever purchased one of them!

Hiding her disgust, Hermione led the man out of the main room and back down the hallway she had come in from. She wasn't sure of the exact room that she was supposed to take him to, but she figured that it was probably the room that Draco had gone into to learn the curse in order to show it at the auction. As Hermione approached that room, Lorelei poked her head outside impatiently, pasting a fake smile on her lips as she saw Magnus and Hermione.

"Please come in, Mr. Campbell," Lorelei said, ushering the man in. "That will be all," she said dismissively to Hermione. The door slammed in Hermione's face.

Alone in the hallway, Hermione let out a shaky sigh. She hoped with all her heart that Draco and Gary were safe somewhere. Another part of her was nervous at the realization that she was completely and utterly alone. There was no backup from Harry and no help from Draco that she would get on this. An image of the tortured prisoners she had been unable to save flickered across her brain. She couldn't let them down. She'd do whatever it took to find and arrest the person responsible for the curses, as well as the entire gang.

Hermione removed her wand from her dress, getting down to business. While August and the rest of the gang was busy trying to figure out where Malfoy had gone and Lorelei was busy teaching Mr. Campbell his new curse, she might as well search the building.

"Point me," she murmured, focusing her mind on the name Maximilian. It was a long shot, since the Point Me charm would only work if whatever she was searching for was within about 300 yards, but she tried it anyway. A Locator Charm would be ideal, but like the Polyjuice Potion, it required a sample of the person you were attempting to search for. Also, since Gary hadn't been able to be found with a Locator Charm, it stood to reason that Lorelei had some sort of wards to prevent such spells. Her brown eyes widened in surprise as her wand shuddered and swiveled to point down the hallway in front of her.

Knowing that she had no time to waste, Hermione headed down the hallway, her wand aloft and ready for action. She passed the auction room quickly, her heartbeat accelerating with every step that she took. As she proceeded down the hallway, the walls and floors grew increasingly less and less finished. Freshly-painted walls turned into cracked and peeling walls, which then turned into just bare pieces of plywood. The hallway itself got narrower and narrower. Ahead of her, she could see darkness where the flickering torches along the wall ended. Yet the hallway still continued. Cautiously lighting her wand, Hermione continued slowly. Her wand continued to point forward under the influence of the Point Me spell.

Suddenly she realized that she was no longer walking on an actual floor but on chunks of wood laid carelessly across the rocks and dirt that littered the ground. Her soft breathing was the only sound she heard besides her own footsteps. A few hundred yards on, the hallway suddenly ended. A single steel door barred her way. It was locked with a massive padlock.

"Alohomora," Hermione whispered, but the door didn't budge. She didn't give up. With a sigh, she mentally rolled up her sleeves and began speaking a series of complicated charms that she had been taught that would override the powerful locking spell that had been placed on the door in front of her. It took her two full minutes to say the entire spell—two long, tense minutes while she resisted the urge to keep looking over her shoulder for pursuers. Finally, with a loud clunk, the padlock opened.

Hermione held her wand cautiously in front of her and slowly pushed the door open. Nothing in her years of schooling or extensive training could have prepared her for what she saw.


	22. Chapter 22

Hermione was in a bedroom. A child's bedroom. She quickly relocked the door behind her just in case someone came down the hallway and saw it unlocked. The room was dimly lit by a blue nightlight in the corner, but she could see that light blue wallpaper and brightly-colored stickers of smiling cars and trucks lined the walls. Teddy bears, blocks, and even a toy broomstick lay scattered all around the bright red carpet. A bookshelf in the corner was filled with picture books.

Hermione's eyes finally travelled to the center of the room, where a racecar-shaped bed stood. There was a lump in the bed under the covers that rose and fell with every breath. "Oh, Merlin," Hermione breathed, approaching the bed. She gently pulled back the covers to reveal a little boy who couldn't have been older than about two years old, sleeping soundly. The child had strawberry blonde hair and an abundance of freckles. He held a pink elephant to his chest as he slept. As Hermione tried to gently replace the blanket, his eyes flickered open, revealing baby-blue eyes that were heavy with sleep. Hermione froze.

The child's lower lip trembled as he looked at the stranger in his room. "Mama?" he asked tremulously, clutching his pink elephant tighter.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Hermione murmured soothingly, stroking the boy's hair gently. "Your mama will be here soon." Who was this child? Was he Lorelei's son? Why was he here?

Questions flooded through her mind, but before she had a chance to ask the child anything, a lilting voice floated to her ears.

"Maxie, darling, mummy's coming!" It was Lorelei's voice, coming from the hallway outside the door.

Hermione's blood ran cold as she heard the name "Maxie." Maxie, short for Maximilian? But it couldn't be! Hermione quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself and hid behind the white dresser, trusting in the shadows to hide her. If Lorelei turned on a brighter light, Hermione would be exposed, but in the dim lighting of the nightlight, she was safely hidden.

The door unlocked and slid open. Hermione peeked around the corner and saw Lorelei walk in. The child sat up fully in bed, reaching up to his mother with outstretched arms. To Hermione's complete and utter shock, Lorelei scooped him up lovingly in her arms, cooing softly to him. This was a side of Lorelei that she had never seen before and definitely hadn't expected.

"Would you like me to read you a story, Maximilian?" Lorelei asked soothingly, stroking her son's hair ever so gently.

Maximilian gurgled a delighted "Yes!" and squirmed out of his mother's arms. He toddled over to the bookshelf and pulled out a book to bring to his mother.

Hermione was forced to remain in her cramped position while Lorelei read the story to Maximilan, her voice a sweet echo of its usual nastiness. About ten minutes into the book, Hermione felt her body changing back into her own. She grimaced but kept quiet as her breasts strained at the top of the corset. With a wordless spell, she managed to make it a size larger so that she could breathe easier. Once the story was finished, Lorelei tucked her son back into bed, kissed him goodnight, and left the room, relocking the door behind her.

Hermione lingered in her spot behind the dresser after Lorelei was gone. This was too confusing for her to comprehend just then. She wanted to take Maximilian with her to protect him, but so far she had seen nothing to convince her that he was being mistreated by his mother—and neither had she seen that he had anything to do with the curses. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she got to her feet, turned on the spot, and disapparated, hoping that the loud crack wouldn't startle the child.

Hermione reappeared outside the door that led to Draco's penthouse, since she knew that he would have put up wards against anyone apparating in. "Alohomora," she said, hearing the satisfying click of the door unlocking for her. She turned the handle and went inside. Once she closed the door softly behind her, she immediately heard an argument to her right from the living room.

"—not going back to the Ministry!" Gary's voice protested hotly. "I'm an Auror and I'm going to help you guys!"

"There's no 'you guys,'" replied Draco's cold voice. "I broke my cover by saving your pathetic skin, so Hermione's on her own now. Merlin knows if she's even alive."

Hermione thought that she heard just a little hitch in his voice, but she supposed that it could have been her imagination.

"Why aren't we going after her?" Gary asked, sounding as upset as Hermione had ever heard him.

"Because if she somehow managed to keep her cover, she'd kill both of us for jeopardizing it," replied Draco angrily.

Hermione wondered whether he was angry with her, Gary, or maybe even himself. She finally entered the room.

Gary was sitting on the edge of a plush chair on the far end of the room, a plate of food in hand. He was both trying to shovel food into his emaciated stomach and plead with Draco, who was pacing slowly in the center of the room around the mahogany coffee table, upon which lay an empty bottle of liquor and a similarly empty glass.

Gary saw Hermione behind Draco and choked on a large mouthful of cold turkey.

Draco ignored the boy's spluttering cries of excitement. "Chew and swallow, Saunders—it's not that hard," he muttered absently, continuing his pacing. Worry for Hermione was making him jumpy. He had _told_ her to follow him and she _hadn't._ He hoped that she had stayed behind of her own will in order to keep her cover, but she could just as easily have been captured. While he desperately wanted to go after her to make sure that she hadn't been hurt or killed, he knew that he had to give her a chance if she was indeed staying undercover. He let out a frustrated groan and kicked a pillow that had fallen off of the sofa.

"Draco?"

At the sound of her voice, Draco spun around to face her, relief flooding his features. In three long strides, he had crossed the room. His blonde hair looked as if he had been running his fingers through it constantly. "What were you thinking?" he groaned, his arms going around her body almost of their own accord as he pulled her close for a fierce kiss.

Hermione kissed him back just as fiercely, happy that he was okay. He smelled and tasted of Firewhiskey. She pushed him away gently after a few moments, all too aware of Gary's flabbergasted expression.

Draco didn't blush as he followed Hermione's gaze to the very-surprised Gary Saunders. "So," he said smoothly to Hermione, ignoring the young man completely. "What happened?"

Before Hermione answered Draco's question, she looked at Gary. "Are you all right?" she asked him softly. Embarrassment aside, she was thrilled to see her friend. She bent down and hugged him tightly, relieved beyond belief that he was safe and alive and that Draco had done the right thing.

"I'm fine," Gary replied happily, setting his plate down on the side table next to him in order to hug her back. "But I want to hear what you found out! I'm not going back to the Ministry; I'm going to work with you until we can catch the curse-maker and clear your name," he said stubbornly.

"No, you're not," Draco hissed. "But we'll send you back later." There was a strange expression that Hermione couldn't quite define in his eyes as he watched Gary hug her. Was it jealousy? Draco wrapped an arm around Hermione, bringing her closer to him and farther away from Gary. "How did you manage to keep your cover?—and I assume that you did because you're still breathing."

Hermione stepped away from Draco and sat down on the leather sofa opposite Gary. "After you two escaped, I managed to placate them by…" She trailed off, looking sheepish.

"By…?" Draco prodded, sitting down on the same sofa as her but on the extreme other end; he was a tiny bit embarrassed by his display of affection for Hermione. Not that he was ashamed of it, but he wasn't quite sure how she felt about him yet and he didn't want to rush things by seeming eager—not that he _was_ eager, damn it!

Hermione wondered why he sat so far from her, but she pushed it aside and answered resignedly. "By telling all of their clients that the next auction's curses would be demonstrated on you. So…Lorelei and August are pretty keen on capturing you at the moment." She expected Draco to be furious with her for putting him in more danger than he was already in, but instead, she watched as a slow smirk slowly spread across his face.

"I bet that worked remarkably well," he said approvingly, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. "That was _brilliant."_

Hermione flushed red; it was the first time she could remember that Draco had complimented her. "They actually cheered," she said, smiling a bit at the memory. "What terrible people."

Draco stood and went to the kitchen, where he began rummaging through cabinets. "Did you find anything out about Maximilian?" he called, coughing as he inhaled dust that had collected in the cabinet he was searching through.

Hermione started, remembering the little boy she had found. "Lorelei has a son named Maximilian," she said, watching Gary's eyes bug out in surprise.

"That horrible bitch is a _mother_?" he spat disbelievingly.

"Aha!" Draco crowed, emerging from behind the cabinets with a dusty bottle of Firewhiskey. "Knew there had to be more here somewhere."

"Did you hear what I said?" Hermione asked, irritated.

"What?" Draco replied, pouring a healthy amount into a glass.

"Lorelei has a two-year-old son named Maximilian locked in that hideout," she repeated as Draco took a sip.

Draco's reaction was extreme and immediate. He choked on his alcohol and it burned its way slowly down his throat and esophagus. He bent over double, his hands on his knees as he choked and spluttered.

"Draco! Are you okay?" Hermione asked, rushing to his side.

Draco finally stopped coughing and rose back up to his full height. Hermione backed away warily, fearing the worst. She remembered how he had all but admitted that he had "dated" Lorelei at one point. She took in the sight of Draco Malfoy looking absolutely shell-shocked as he shakily replaced his glass on the counter.

"Are—are you the father?" she whispered hesitantly, hoping with all of her heart that it wasn't true. But it was the only explanation she could think of for his reaction.

Some color returned to his face and he let out a shaky chuckle. "Of course not," he said wryly, walking back to the living room to sit down on the sofa. Hermione followed, sitting beside him.

Gary remained where he'd been sitting, open-mouthed as he watched Hermione and Draco interestedly to see what would unfold between them. The only time he had seen them together was at the charity ball, and they had been fighting like cats and dogs then.

Draco opened his mouth to speak to Hermione, but he stopped and looked towards Gary. "I'll tell you more later," he said disdainfully. "Once the boy has gone to bed." More color had returned to his face as he found someone to make fun of.

As he predicted, Gary flushed red and replied heatedly, "Listen, Malfoy, I'm only a year younger than you!"

"And it shows," Draco retorted with a derisive laugh. "If I have to come rescue you from a bunch of 'bad guys,' then you're a boy. Real Aurors should be able to handle themselves without the help of a mere bounty hunter." Draco smirked, loving his perfect cover as a bounty hunter.

Gary looked as though he might cry at Draco's harsh words. Hermione could tell that he was exhausted from his days of captivity. She also suspected that Draco's cruelty was coming from a vain attempt to detract attention from his earlier nervousness about her safety. For both Draco's sake and Gary's, she wanted to get Gary to go to sleep. "Is there somewhere here that he can sleep tonight?" she asked Draco, sending daggers at him with her eyes should he attempt to make fun of her fragile friend again.

Draco sighed. "He can sleep in the back bedroom," he replied, yawning and relaxing back into the sofa as if he didn't much care where Gary went. "But he's going back to the Ministry tomorrow," he added, unable to resist one last jab at the young man.

Gary started to argue, but Hermione cut in with, "We'll talk about it tomorrow." She rose, giving Malfoy a dirty look.

"Down the hallway, turn left, last door on the left," Draco called behind her, smirking.

Hermione walked Gary towards the bedroom. "I'm serious, Hermione," Gary said as they turned the corner. "I'm going to help you. It's not fair that you're wanted for arrest all because you tried to help this guy. How is he even worth it, anyway?"

"It's complicated," Hermione answered, sighing. "But you can stay and help us. You're an Auror just as much as I am. More now, actually..."

They reached the door that Draco had described and Gary went inside. "I'll see you tomorrow. Sorry I'm so tired," he muttered, looking down at the floor.

"Get to bed," Hermione said, giving a small laugh. "After being imprisoned for days, I completely understand. Good night, Gary."

"Night, Hermione."

Hermione walked back out to the living room, rubbing her forehead wearily. She found Draco standing at the kitchen counter, finishing the rest of his glass of Firewhiskey and pouring himself another. "What is _wrong _with you?" she asked him softly but angrily, keeping her voice down so that she didn't disturb Gary.

Draco looked up, a bemused smirk on his face. "In case you hadn't noticed, he's just as suicidal as you are when it comes to sinking your teeth into things and refusing to let go," he replied. "He's more of a liability than anything else."

"That doesn't mean you should antagonize him right after he's been through a terrible ordeal," Hermione said, snatching his glass from him and draining the contents in one long gulp. She swallowed the Firewhiskey without wincing.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, impressed, but merely poured another glass. "You could have been killed," he said as he stepped forward so that he was next to her. They were so close that Hermione could smell the Firewhiskey on his breath as well as the scent of his expensive cologne. She wondered how much he had drank thus far. "Don't take risks like you did earlier again, and I'll leave the brat alone," he replied, taking another gulp of Firewhiskey.

"I didn't take any more of a risk than I usually do as an Auror," Hermione pointed out. "It's the job. Let's go sit down."

Draco followed her absentmindedly to the sofa, still sipping his drink. Once they were both sitting on the sofa, Hermione waited for Draco to speak. When he said nothing, she went first. "You really need to put down the alcohol," she said, firmly taking the glass from his hand. Draco sighed but allowed her to put the glass on the coffee table.

He leaned his head back against the pillows on the couch, eyes half-closed as he enjoyed the euphoric feeling of the alcohol running through his veins.

"Well?" she finally said impatiently when Draco made no movement to speak.

"Yes?"

He was absolutely infuriating. "You were going to tell me why you were so shocked that Lorelei has a son!"

He sat up and said slowly, "Lorelei and I were involved with each other about a year ago. She never said anything about having a child." The buzz that the Firewhiskey had given him made it much easier for him to spit it the next part out. "We spent several weekends together—entire weekends, and she didn't leave once. Where was the child then?"

Hermione told Draco everything that she had seen, including how tender and gentle Lorelei had seemed with the child. "This is just not making any sense," she said once she had finished, sighing. "Nothing about Lorelei screams 'mother,' yet she treated the boy as gently and lovingly as I've ever seen. And how does he fit in with the curse maker. Surely a two-year-old isn't the one making these horrible curses..." She shook her head in exasperation. "I have to go back there."

"Under what pretext? Auction girls are only needed the day of the event, and since you've promised them _me,_ the next auction won't happen unless they capture me, which is unlikely," Draco said. "Now that I blew my cover, you can't afford to be risky with yours," he said bitterly. Though he had done the right thing, it didn't sit well with him that he was now rendered helpless against Lorelei's gang.

Hermione slid a foot or two closer to him and rested her hand tentatively on his shoulder. "I'm so glad that you saved Gary," she said softly.

Draco's face softened just a little. He looked as if he was about to kiss her, but stopped suddenly, a look of realization coming onto his face. "I know how you're going to go back to Lorelei's hideout," he said, facing her with an evil smirk. The solution would have come to him sooner had he not been imbibing copious amounts of alcohol in an effort to calm his nerves. Killing the woman with the Tongue-Twister curse had affected him more that he let on.

"How?" she asked slowly, already fearing the answer by his expression.

"You're going to give them me."

"No!" Hermione said, horrified. "I'm absolutely not!"

"You don't have a choice. It'll give you a chance to find out more about the kid," Draco stated. He had what Hermione considered to be an unreasonably enthusiastic look on his face.

"What if they kill you?"

"Do you really think they could kill _me?"_ he said cockily.

"You're human, aren't you?" Hermione growled.

"Closer to a god, actually."

"Draco, I'm not taking you to them. I refuse."

"If you think I won't Imperius you to do it, then you're in for a surprise." Draco smirked.

"Try it, _Malfoy." _

The glare between the two of them was deadly. Hermione glared at Draco, afraid for his safety and angry to no end by his threat to use an Unforgivable Curse on her. Draco glared at Hermione, afraid for her safety and angry at her unwillingness to put him in danger. Sparks danced between their eyes as they glowered at each other, each refusing to give in to the other.

To Hermione's surprise, Malfoy was the first to give in and break their heated glare. Unfortunately, it was only to reach slowly and deliberately next to him and pick up his glass of Firewhiskey. Staring at her challengingly over the top of the glass, he took a long sip.

That was it for Hermione. She tackled him. She hurled her smaller body on top of him, knocking his drink from his hand. It fell with a soft thud, spilling its contents on the creamy eggshell-colored carpet. "Goddamn it, Hermione!" he growled, grabbing his wand to clean up the mess before it stained his carpet. Hermione was on top of him, reaching for his wand and grabbing it away before he could cast the spell.

"You're a fucking drunk!" she hissed, her entire body on top of his, her face inches away from his. Her breath blew cool on Draco's flushed face.

"You're a hypocritical fool," he replied just as furiously. He took control of their position and grabbed Hermione's forearms, swiftly turning their bodies so that she lay on her back on the sofa with him on top of her. "Or do you not recall the night you attempted to seduce me in my manor? You were so plastered you barely knew your own name."

Hermione blushed furiously at the memory of that night and struggled in his grip. "I fucking hate you," she snarled, embarrassed, trying to get her hands free.

"The hell you do," Draco replied, lowering his mouth to hers.

The moment their lips touched, Hermione's struggles ceased. Draco sensed this and loosened his grip on her arms. Hermione slid her arms around Draco's neck, clinging to him as their tongues danced. In a smooth movement, Draco slid a strong arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap, leaning back against the sofa as Hermione straddled him. On top now, Hermione kissed him fiercely, taking control as she put a hand at the back of his head and pulled him closer to her. Draco grabbed either side of her hips with his hands and held her as close to his body as he could.

Their heated anger slowly turned into passion. Surprising herself with her own initiative, Hermione skimmed her hands down Draco's chest to his shirt, untucking it from the waistband of his pants. Draco eagerly let go of her waist just long enough to wrench his shirt over his head and toss it behind him. He lowered his head to her shoulder, exposed by the neckline of the skimpy dress that she was still wearing. His tongue slowly moved along her shoulder blade and lower, to the slight bit of cleavage revealed by the tight dress. Hermione's head fell back as she slowly exhaled with a shudder. Draco's hands moved lightly along her back to the ribbons holding the back of her dress together.

"Wait!" Hermione gasped, her breath coming in short pants.

"Yes?" Draco's voice murmured as he pressed kisses along the tops of her breasts and moved slowly up her neck.

"Gary's in the other room," she reminded him, a delighted moan escaping her lips as Draco lightly nipped at her throat.

"Then let's go." Showing off his strength, Draco scooped Hermione up in his arms and pulled her legs around his waist as he carried her through the apartment, his lips locking onto hers. He kicked the door to his bedroom open and then kicked it shut after they walked through. Finally breaking their kiss, he dropped Hermione on the bed and pounced on top of her. "Get this off," he growled, pulling her against him as he untied her dress in the back.

Hermione shivered as the air conditioning hit her bare body while she helped Draco pull her dress off. "I like _you_ in that dress much better than I like _Brooke _in it," Draco murmured, his breath warm in her ear.

Clad only in her bra and panties, Hermione writhed beneath Draco as he ran his hands along her body. Shyness threatened to overcome her, but Draco's warm body covered hers with his as they resumed their fervent kissing. Draco's hands caressed her curves, knowing exactly what to do to get her moaning beneath him. Being so close to her was doing funny things to his brain. Just a few years previous, he would have been disgusted to even think of touching her as he was currently doing. Now, he was lost in her, his breathing out of control and heavy as his need for her grew. He found himself showing incredible patience as he waited for her to make the next move. She was close, he knew, as her hands tightened on his shoulders and her movements became more urgent against him.

When Hermione reached for the waistband of his pants, he halted her briefly. "Are you sure?" he asked softly, kissing her neck slowly.

"Yes," she said breathily, her mind fogged by passion. She could think of no time and person that she would rather her first time be with. Draco had awakened feelings in her that she had thought would never be awakened again once Ron died.

Draco held her against him as he slowly entered her. She felt so right beneath him that it nearly took his breath away. A rush of alien feelings flooded through him, powerful and breathtaking. What was happening to him?

As she adjusted to his size, he moved faster and faster, his soft moans eclipsed by her cries of pleasure beneath him. Hermione came hard, sinking her teeth into his shoulder as her inner muscles clenched and dragged him over the edge with her.

They both collapsed on the bed against each other, breathing heavily. Hermione rested her head on Draco's chest, feeling his pulse race madly. Her entire body felt drained of energy, yet strangely euphoric. It was incredible. Her eyes began to slowly close as the exhaustion from both their previous "activities" and the stress of the auction kicked in.

Next to her, comfortable and sleepy, Draco's eyes began to close as well. They were both nearly asleep when an earsplitting crash filled the room.

**Okay, first I'd like to say that I'm sorry for yet another cliffhanger! *ducks curses* **

**Secondly, thank you to everyone who has reviewed and who continues to review; your comments are always read and always appreciated!**


	23. Chapter 23

Hermione jerked in surprise and fear; never had she felt as vulnerable as that moment when she clung to Draco, naked and exhausted, her eyes traveling instantly to the source of the noise. A black-haired man blinked in the dim light of the room and said, on the edge of panic, "Lumos!"

As light washed over the bed, Draco was already lunging for his wand, which lay next to the bed in the pocket of his discarded pants.

"Harry!" shrieked Hermione, recognizing the intruder. She scrabbled for the thick comforter to cover herself.

"Bloody hell!" cried Harry, dropping his wand as he took in the sight of the naked body of his best friend.

Draco snatched up his wand and pants, sliding them on quickly before he faced Harry, livid.

Harry looked utterly horrified.

"Accio clothes," Draco snapped coldly, summoning Hermione's Auror uniform from the chair near where Harry had appeared. They'd left them there earlier that evening after Hermione had changed into the dress. He tossed the clothes to Hermione. "Mind if we dress, Potter?" he hissed angrily, blocking Harry's view of Hermione.

Harry swallowed audibly and bent to scoop up his fallen wand. He couldn't even argue through his shock and dismay at the revelation that Draco and Hermione were clearly sleeping together. "I'll leave the room," he choked out, green eyes very wide. "But I need to talk to you once you're...decent," he said to Hermione, his face very red. He nearly ran from the room.

Absolutely mortified, Hermione began quickly dressing. She recovered her bra from across the room with a flushed face.

"That settles it! I'm going to do it—I'm going to do what the Dark Lord never could—I'm going to kill Harry bloody Potter," Draco growled furiously, stalking to a massive mahogany armoire and rummaging through it for a shirt.

"How did he find us?" Hermione gasped, buttoning up her shirt. "I thought you said that no one could track us here!"

Draco turned to face her, fully dressed. "There are so many wards on this place that it would take months just to take half of them all off," he growled, taking her head in his hands. His words were harsh and angry, though his hands were gentle; they shook as they cupped her cheeks. "I may actually kill him for ruining this moment," he confessed, his face flushed and lips red.

Hermione blushed at his rare display of emotion. "Try not to," she said, a small smile on her face.

"If he attempts to arrest either one of us, I can't make any promises," Draco said, completely serious this time. He lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss on Hermione's lips.

Hermione shuddered at the thought of Draco and Harry fighting. Though Draco knew many Dark curses that Harry didn't, Harry had defeated Lord Voldemort. She honestly didn't know who would win a fight between the two of them and did not want to find out. She followed Draco out of the bedroom, a tight grip on her wand.

As they entered the living room, Harry stood up quickly from one of the sofas. Face pale, he faced the two angry lovers almost sheepishly.

Draco's posture was openly hostile; his wand was in his hand at the ready, his eyes were snapping with anger, and his mouth was a hard line.

Harry appeared to ignore this, focusing instead on Hermione. "Listen, Hermione, I just—"

"How did you find me?" Hermione interrupted. Her keen mind was focused on that before all else.

Harry blushed even more than he already was. "While you were in St. Mungo's, I configured your Auror badge to have a wizarding sort of GPS chip in it so I can always find you," he confessed, his eyes focused on the floor. "It works like a rubber band; it snaps and pulls me to the object—allows me to bypass anti-apparation wards."

Draco looked confused, but being muggleborn, Hermione knew exactly what GPS was. "That's actually really clever," she admitted. "Completely out of line and intrusive, but clever."

"After you left, I didn't know how else to find you," Harry said desperately. He looked haggard. "I had to warn you! These people are incredibly dangerous—you don't understand! Earlier tonight we found a woman who had been choked to death with her own tongue. Do you have any idea how sick someone has to be to do something like that?"

Hermione glanced sideways at Draco, who had gone pale. Though not a member of the group who had created the curse, he was the one who had cast it. His face was composed into the cool mask that Hermione knew so well, the one that revealed nothing.

"I know how dangerous they are, Harry!" she exclaimed. "You can't honestly still be on about not wanting me to get hurt, are you? I am not a child!"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair anxiously. "No matter how I try to protect you, you find yourself in danger anyway! Don't you understand that I don't want to lose you, too? This job is insanely dangerous," he yelled, anguish in his voice. He hadn't slept in days—his worry and stress level were at an all-time high. "I never wanted you to be an Auror, but you wouldn't listen to me!"

Thrown off-guard by Harry's sudden outburst, Hermione just stared at him blankly. Finally, she managed to say, "I've solved a lot of cases, Harry. You know that I can take care of myself."

"Ron died protecting you!" he yelled, tears in his eyes.

Hermione froze as her best friend erupted. Her mouth dropped open in shock. "Are you blaming me for his death?" she asked disbelievingly. A sinking feeling rushed through her as Harry voiced the thought that had lurked in her own mind for years.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Potter?" Draco snarled. He gripped Hermione's hand firmly to lend her his quiet support.

"Mr. Potter?" said a sleepy voice.

Harry whipped around at hearing Gary's voice coming from the hallway. "Gary?" he exclaimed.

While he was effectively distracted, Hermione took her chance. "I'm sorry, Draco," Hermione breathed brokenly, sliding her hand out of his. Before Draco could stop her, she had turned in a tight circle and disapparated right in front of him.

The night was silent as Hermione appeared at her destination. A few crickets chirped around her feet, and the crescent moon shining overhead provided ample light in which to see.

Gravestone after gravestone littered the healthy green grass of the famous Harry Potter Memorial Cemetery. Harry had protested the name, but the woman in charge of naming the cemetery had named it after him anyway. This cemetery was reserved specifically for those who had died in the war against Voldemort. Flowers littered the graves, charmed to never fade or wilt.

Hermione quickly aimed her wand at the Auror badge gleaming on her uniform. "Finite Incantatem," she murmured, hearing the soft whoosh as the tracking charm on it dissipated.

Next she said the incantation that would prevent Locator charms from working on her. Hermione made her way past the gravestones, recognizing names along the way. Tears came to her eyes as she approached her target.

Some graves were so surrounded by flowers that the headstone could barely be seen. Ron Weasley's was one such grave. Hermione walked up to it, holding back her tears. Flowers moved and encircled her as she sat down, leaning her back against the headstone.

"I miss you, Ron," Hermione said softly. Harry's words had crushed her and made all of her grief return in full. Harry was right. If she had just been stronger, Ron wouldn't have needed to jump in front of her to save her. She'd blamed herself for years over it, but had finally managed to convince herself that it hadn't been her fault. Harry's words had brought all of the guilt back.

She probably shouldn't have run off, and she knew that Draco would probably call this insane and foolish, but she didn't care. She just wanted to be with Ron. It had been a long time since she had visited him. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the flowers.

The fragrance of the flowers filled her nose and lulled her into a half-doze. She was truly exhausted. Everything that had happened so far that day had tired her to such an extent that it was impossible for her to keep her eyes open. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep, her wand clenched tightly in her lap. She was so completely unconscious that she didn't hear soft footsteps approaching her several hours later.

It was the bright sun warming he ground that woke Hermione the next morning. She sat up straight, sensing that something was wrong. She could hear nothing; the cemetery was absolutely silent. There were no sounds of birds, insects, nothing. She pressed her hands to her ears in confusion. As she lowered them, she gasped as she noticed a translucent quality to them that was certainly not natural. "I'm under a Disillusionment Charm," she realized aloud. Though she knew that she had indeed spoken the words, she heard nothing. She tried to speak again, putting her hand to her throat, where she felt her vocal cords vibrate. Her speech was fine—it was her ears that weren't working. "Finite Incantatem!" she cried, beginning to be frightened.

The Disillusionment Charm broke, as did whatever deafening charm she was under. Sound filled her ears—the chirping of birds, the chattering of a pair of nearby chipmunks, the gentle whoosh of the breeze.

Hermione scrambled to her feet, wand at the ready, looking for whoever had cast Disillusioning and deafening charms on her. The cemetery was empty but for her and the graves. But the graves around her...some of them were scarred with what looked like spell-marks that definitely had not been the night before. Had some sort of fight transpired while she slept?

Hermione bent down to look at the grass around her. It was trampled and broken as it hadn't been last night. "What is going on?" she murmured uneasily. Why would someone have cast those two particular spells on her? And what had happened while she had been hidden and deaf so that she wouldn't know what was going on?

The neatly-kept cemetery seemed to change from a comforting place to threatening, all in a few seconds. She shivered and stretched. Draco would probably be worrying about her, so she decided to go back to his penthouse. She disapparated quickly, leaving the troublesome scene behind.

The apartment was completely empty. Harry, Gary, and Draco were all gone. Hermione wandered the empty rooms, noticing no signs of a fight or struggle. Where had Draco gone? Had he gone to search for her? Perhaps he had gone for a walk or to eat breakfast somewhere. She decided to take a shower while he was gone.

The bathroom in Draco's penthouse was incredibly luxurious—much more so than in Hermione's humble flat. While she only had a shower, there was actually a bath in this one. She looked longingly at it for a moment before deciding that she would be better off just taking a quick shower.

Hermione relaxed under the comforting hot water, washing away the sweat and stress of the past few days. A blush infused her cheeks as she imagined taking a shower with Draco. A sudden urge swept through her to find him, and she hurriedly finished her shower. As she stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, she noticed an owl perched on the window sill in the one of the bedrooms. At spotting her, the owl gave a soft hoot and fluttered over, dropping a letter on her head.

"Ouch!" Hermione cried as something hard inside the letter smacked against her head. The owl ruffled its feathers and flew back out the window. Hermione rubbed her head ruefully and picked up the letter. Holding her towel against her with one hand, she used the other to open the letter.

_Brooke,_ wrote the neat handwriting, _your presence is required at an auction tonight at 6 p.m. We've located Draco Malfoy and will be reprising a few curses for our patrons' entertainment. This Portkey will activate at 5:50 this evening. August._

The brass knob that had accompanied the letter fell from Hermione's nerveless fingers as she slumped against the wall, feeling faint. The surge of horror that swept through her was shocking in its intensity. A cold dread settled in her heart as she looked shakily at the clock. It was only 11 o'clock in the morning. She had nearly seven hours until the Portkey would activate. Even once she got there, she would have only a few minutes before the auction began—nowhere near enough time to rescue him.

These thoughts and more surged through Hermione's brain as she quickly dressed in her Auror uniform, which she cleaned magically with her wand. Grabbing her things from the kitchen, she disapparated quickly to find Harry.

Draco spat blood onto the clean floor, grimacing at the taste. He'd taken a nasty punch to the face while fending off all _six_ of the idiots that Lorelei and August had sent after him. Once he had left the safety of his apartment, he was susceptible to Lorelei's locating spells. He could have handled three or four, but six was simply a case of being outnumbered. No amount of skill would have helped him there. In the end, he'd simply surrendered as their fight had taken them closer and closer to where Hermione slept, invisible and oblivious to the battle going on around her.

He had tracked her, had known somehow that Hermione would flee to the cemetery where that idiot Weasley was buried—it was in her nature. Once he'd seen her lying against Weasley's grave, sleeping like the dead—the pun in that made him shudder—he'd wanted to take her away from the dismal place immediately. He despised graveyards, always had. Draco had spent a few uncharacteristic minutes watching her sleep. She looked so peaceful and untroubled, even though she was sleeping in a cemetery.

Those minutes turned out to be a mistake, as Draco heard not-so-stealthy footsteps approaching him. He used the few seconds that he had to hide Hermione from sight and block any sound from reaching her ears; if she saw him fighting, she would try to help him. It wasn't worth putting her in danger when he was getting what he wanted anyway: to be taken back to the Lorelei's hideout.

This wasn't so bad, anyway. His wand had been taken from him and other than the painful burn on his arm and blow to the face that he had received from the battle, he was perfectly fine. He was even being kept in one of the small rooms where customers were brought to learn their curses instead of some prison cage. He reclined lazily on one of the comfortable chairs that occupied the room.

The door opened with a bang but Draco remained relaxed, his eyes half shut as he rested in the chair. Though he looked off-guard and at ease, it was only an illusion.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," murmured Lorelei as she stepped lightly into the room. She wore tight-fitting dress robes in shimmering green paired with black heels. She held her wand warily, ready for anything. Draco could see the outline of a knife against her thigh as well. He was unarmed, but that didn't stop her from being prepared for anything. Draco could say one thing about her: she had learned.

Draco didn't reply, though a smirk touched his lips. Even in the face of death, he showed no fear. He had supreme confidence in his ability to get himself out of this situation, though as of yet he had no concrete plan.

"What is so funny?" Lorelei snapped, seeming frustrated with his lack of fear. "Nothing will please me more than to watch you die—that is, after we take care of your precious Auror."

Draco's smirk froze in place.

"Did you honestly think that you could betray us without us realizing that the auction girl you hired was an undercover Auror?" Lorelei mocked him, her eyes bright with victory. She circled his chair slowly, wanting to see every last effect that her words were having on him. "What a surprise it was to discover that not only are you working with her, but the two of you are...involved."

With a slight wave of her wand, a pink heart made of smoke appeared in the air in front of Draco. The heart ripped jaggedly in two and fluttered sadly to the ground, where it disappeared into smoky flames. "When she arrives tonight for the auction, she'll be walking straight into our trap. Tell me, Draco," she said, whispering into his ear as she stood behind him. "How will it feel to watch her burn before your eyes?"

Draco's control snapped. Without taking the time to turn around, his arms shot behind him and gripped Lorelei by the throat. He felt her neck beneath his hands and squeezed hard. Agony interrupted his assault, flames searing his leg as Lorelei aimed a frantic spell at him, forcing him to let go.

"Incarcerous!" Lorelei gasped, rubbing her neck as ropes shot forth from the end of her wand.

Draco toppled to the ground as the ropes bound his arms behind his back and his ankles together. He struggled mightily against his restraints, his muscles flexing against the rough cords that only tightened the more he struggled. Finally he gave up, chest heaving with exertion, and glared daggers up at Lorelei.

Finally having recovered from her brush with strangulation, Lorelei sat in Draco's vacated chair. She reached down and dragged her red-painted nails lightly over the red burn she'd just inflicted upon his leg. Draco hissed in pain but made no other sound.

"Looks painful," she observed detachedly, relaxing back in the chair. "Of course, that's nothing compared to what's going to happen to Miss Hermione Granger."

At hearing Hermione's name, Draco paled even further. This proved without a doubt that Lorelei wasn't bluffing. He knew exactly who Hermione was. "How did you know?" he spat, his struggles against the ropes renewing.

"How _didn't _we know?" Lorelei laughed. She twirled her wand between her fingers. "The unreported alarm at the London hideout, then you were followed to La Lanterna, and not to mention the Legilimens we used on her once she was captured and unconscious. Once you betrayed us, a simple tracking charm revealed that she traveled straight to your apartment in London after leaving here—the one that you and I spent that weekend in April in?"

It was all his fault, Draco realized. He had been careless, and now Hermione was the one who would suffer for it. To top it off, he had gotten himself captured and was unable to warn or help her. "What are you going to do to her?" he asked, working hard to keep the despair from his voice.

"You'll just have to wait and see. Can't ruin the surprise, now can I?"

"You won't get away with it," Draco said coolly, opting for a casual demeanor as he fixed his gaze on the ceiling.

"I think you'll find that you're very much mistaken," Lorelei said, chuckling a bit at Draco's naiveté. "Ah, how the pain of watching her die will be a nice preamble to your own—"

"Tell me about the boy," Draco interrupted, unable to stand Lorelei's gloating about Hermione's death for another second. He was pleased when Lorelei's jaw dropped.

"What boy?" she asked, a little unsteadily.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't figure it out?" Draco said disparagingly, echoing her words from earlier. "I know you have a little boy named Maximilian locked up in this godforsaken place. I also know that you're somehow having him create these disgusting curses for you."

Lorelei recovered slightly, appearing pleased that he had not yet figured out the entire story. "Jealous that he's not yours, are you?" she said cockily.

"Thank Merlin he's not mine," Draco retorted nastily. "The mixing of my genes with your dirty ones would be a sad occurrence indeed."

"That child is more than you'll ever be!" Lorelei growled, her foot lashing out to connect with Draco's side. "He is the future king of this world. I can harness his uncontrolled child's magic and make it work however I want!"

"You can't control child's magic," Draco snarled, ignoring her kick. "It's dangerous; that's why parents bind their children's powers until they turn eight! You're a fool to use it; it could kill you both if you aren't careful. Although I'd say good riddance."

"A fool?" Lorelei repeated disbelievingly. "Let's see...of the two of us, who is currently tied up and about to be destroyed along with his girlfriend by these powers that you say are so dangerous? You. And I'm the fool? Hardly, Draco."

Before Draco could reply with a nasty retort, Lorelei glanced at the clock. "Best get you cleaned up, eh? It wouldn't do to have you looking all woebegone for our guests tonight," Lorelei giggled, ignoring Draco's snarled protests. She headed for the door. "Someone will be here shortly to prepare you for the auction."

The door slammed behind her with a thud of finality, leaving Draco with one surprising thought: he'd never realized how much he cared about Hermione Granger until it was clear that they were both going to die.


	24. Chapter 24

Just as the second hand of the clock moved to signal 5:50 p.m., the Portkey in Hermione's hand glowed blue and jerked her with it as it took her to her destination. Hermione's feet hit the ground hard on concrete, making her wince at the impact. It took her only a second to look down and realize that she was standing on a red X that had been scrawled on the hard floor.

She whipped her head up and realized that she was surrounded by a group of men, all with their wands aimed directly at her chest. "Expelliarmus!" they yelled. The force of their combined curses ripped her wand from her hand and sent her flying backwards to slam hard into the wall with a sickening crack. Hermione nearly blacked out from the force of the impact. Her knees weak, she leaned against the wall for balance. "What's going on?" she asked in confusion. She knew that her Polyjuice potion was perfect; maybe she could talk her way out of this if she didn't break character.

"Nice try," Lorelei said, pushing past the men with a triumphant smirk on her face. August followed, a vial of potion in his hand. Hermione flinched as he approached, but was still too stunned from hitting the wall to put up much of a fight. August grabbed her chin in one strong hand and forced the potion down her throat with another.

The potion was spicy and salty, burning her throat on the way down. As the warmth settled in her stomach, it spread through her body from head to toe. The familiar stretching sensation made her realize that she was being forcibly changed back into her own body. She was found out!

"Let's go," Lorelei said harshly, gesturing to two of the men. "We have little time before the auction."

Hermione was grabbed and forced to walk with the group as they left the room. She struggled against her captors, but without a wand she was helpless.

"In here," Lorelei directed. Hermione was shoved roughly into an empty room with nothing in it but nondescript grey carpet on the floor. "Get everything ready!" she snapped at the others, who left immediately. August entered the room behind Lorelei and slammed the door.

Hermione backed against the wall, holding back her fear. She didn't have any idea how to escape this.

Lorelei flicked her wand. "Crucio!"

Pain surged through Hermione's body, igniting every inch of her nerves. Her mouth opened in a wordless scream as she hit the ground hard, her twitching limbs unable to support her. It felt like ages until the curse was lifted by a laughing Lorelei. "Tell me, are any of your Aurors coming to protect you? Harry Potter, perhaps?"

Tears poured from Hermione's eyes uncontrollably. "No!" she cried, curling up into a ball in a futile attempt to protect herself.

"Crucio!"

The pain came back, attacking her body and leaving her senseless and screaming. "No! No, I swear the Aurors aren't coming!"

Lorelei stopped the curse after another long minute, turning questioningly to August.

"She's telling the truth," he answered in that harsh voice of his.

Lorelei nodded. "Revelio," she said, waving her wand at the blank wall opposite the sobbing Hermione.

Draco appeared, sitting casually in a chair against the wall, looking quite relaxed. His face was blank, though if one gazed at him for a few moments, his lips appeared to twitch every once in a while.

"Draco?" Hermione whispered questioningly, sitting up weakly.

"Imperius Curse," Lorelei said lightly, walking over to Draco and stroking the side of his cheek mockingly. For a split second, Draco broke free of the curse and managed to get into a half-standing position before August's face tightened in concentration and he was pulled into the curse once more. "He's going to watch you die, and be completely helpless while doing so. Now, let the auction begin!"

Hermione fought mightily against the muscular man dragging her down the hallway, but his grip on her arms was too strong to break. He was large and had gray hair, though he couldn't have been older than 30.

"How do they know she was telling the truth?" her captor muttered to another man, one of the Irish brothers Hermione had previously encountered. "If killing her here brings rest of the Aurors down on us..."

"Calm down, Dmitri. August did his sneaky truth spell on her; she was telling the truth. There's no Aurors coming."

Hermione finally stopped struggling; she wasn't going to escape just yet, that was for sure. Lorelei, August, and Draco were leading the way. It infuriated Hermione to watch Draco walking beside them as if by choice, but her eyes were on Dmitri. He was the one who had been entrusted with her and Draco's wands. In the event that she saw an opportunity to escape, he would be the one she would go after.

They reached a door, through which was the stage of an auditorium. Heavy velvet curtains blocked the view of the audience that Hermione could hear on the other side. August, Lorelei, the two men holding Hermione, and Draco all stepped onto the large stage. The two men dragged Hermione to the center of the stage and stood on either side of her, holding her arms with a bruising grip. Draco stood in the center as well at August's direction. Hermione glanced at him for help, but it was useless. He gazed calmly yet blankly at the closed curtains as if he could see through to the audience.

Lorelei stood in front of the two of them, seeming to pout for a moment. "There's not enough suffering here," she decided. "Let's let the lovebirds say their last goodbyes!" She nodded to August, who released the curse on Draco, though he rolled his eyes at Lorelei's drama.

Free of the curse, fury spread across Draco's face. Hermione seized her chance and wrenched hard against the grip of the men holding her. Dmitri was knocked off balance, giving Hermione time to stomp her foot hard on the instep of the other man's foot. He howled in pain and let go of Hermione's right arm, which she lost no time in swinging towards Dmitri's face. The crack as Dmitri's nose broke echoed through the sound-enhanced stage. Dmitri fell to the ground, howling.

By this time, Draco had crossed the stage to reach Hermione and with a swift blow knocked out the Irish man who was still gripping his foot in pain. Just as Hermione reached down towards Dmitri to find her wand, Lorelei shrieked a spell that paralyzed both her and Draco; their limbs buckled and they fell to the floor.

Draco hit the floor first, his head cushioned by his arm. Hermione followed seconds later, her head landing just next to Draco's. It put Draco's lips directly next to Hermione's ear.

Unbelievably, Hermione heard Draco's voice through his partially-opened lips. "Lorelei's using Maximilian's child's magic to make the curses," he breathed, his voice barely louder than a whisper. It took all his strength to speak the words. "She hasn't bound his powers. Have you really not brought Potter or any Aurors with you?"

Hermione fought the curse with every bit of her mental strength as she struggled to talk. "No! I left a message for him, but he was in meetings all day and I can't go into the Ministry until I've been pardoned or I'll be arrested!" she bit out, hoping Draco could hear her faint voice.

"Enough of this nonsense!" snapped August. "Let's begin. Leave them paralyzed until we're ready for them."

Without preamble, the curtains flew up and lights shone down upon the stage. Hermione blinked a few times before she was able to see the people sitting in the audience. There were around 20 or so, and she recognized most from the botched auction of the previous night. She barely heard Lorelei's loud explanation of who she and Draco were; her mind was working frantically as she tried to come up with a plan for escape. At least she had one ace up her sleeve.

The introductions over, Lorelei turned to Draco and Hermione with an evil grin on her face. At her direction, Dmitri approached the paralyzed pair. Blood streaked his face and teeth from Hermione's punch, making him look even more terrifying.

Hermione saw the audience on their feet, watching interestedly, as two people were about to die. It made her sick to think of the pleasure they were getting from the spectacle. Dmitri waved his wand, releasing the curse on the two of them. In a courageous yet futile move, Draco launched himself at Dmitri, going for his wand. Though surprised, Dmitri still had enough time to knock Draco to the ground with a vicious curse that opened up a long gash in the blonde's side.

"Don't hurt him yet, you fool!" Lorelei snarled from the side of the stage as Hermione froze in shock.

Draco got to his feet slowly, his hands pressed hard on the wound in his side that bled sluggishly through his fingers.

Lorelei whispered a spell that caused a shimmering barrier to surround Draco like a bubble. He shouted in alarm and kicked at the barrier, but no sound traveled through it and his kick had no impact.

"Gentlemen, I present to you, The Imprisonment Curse!" Lorelei called, facing the audience. "Not very torturous, but a handy little curse in its own way. As previously stated, the bidding will commence at the end, once all of the curses have been demonstrated." She beckoned to Dmitri, who grabbed Hermione by the shoulder and pulled her to the front of the stage.

Hermione gazed out at the people, frightened down to her very bones. Her body was frozen. She couldn't move or run. Nothing in her Auror training had prepared her for this. She glanced to the side and saw Draco standing behind the barrier, his face stark white. Blood dripped to the floor from the wound in his side, though Hermione could tell that it wasn't fatal.

"Where are they?" Hermione whispered, realizing that she was about to die. She knew there was no chance that Harry would come, but she had thought that her tentative new allies would.

Hermione was so lost in her thoughts and fear that she didn't notice Lorelei wave her wand. Pleasure struck her unexpectedly and forcefully. She collapsed to her knees as images and sensations flooded her mind. She was lying peacefully in the middle of a grassy meadow. She could feel the warm sunlight on her skin and the soft grass beneath her back. Draco was on top of her, kissing her passionately. Her arms cut through the water with grace; she loved the feeling of the swimming in the warm lake by the house she'd grown up in. Cold ice cream slid down her throat and into her stomach, a welcome relief on a scorching summer's day.

Hermione was dimly aware of the audience laughing at the unconscious moan that left her lips.

And then it changed.

After the pleasurable sensations, the pain that shot through her body was unbearable. Not even the Cruciatus Curse could compare. A shocked gasp escaped her as an image of Draco beat her with his fists, as the water dragged her under and drowned her, as the ice cream surrounded her and froze every muscle, as the sun drew her in and burnt every inch of skin. The images were only in her mind and the agony left no mark on her skin, yet the pain was very real. The pain washed over her, took over every inch of her body.

And then it ended.

Hermione looked up shakily, seeing Lorelei smile at the interested audience. The pleasurable sensations came back, for the span of just a few seconds—then the pain returned, seeming tenfold after the interruption by pleasure.

Hermione convulsed on the ground, biting her lip hard to keep from screaming; she would not—could not—give Lorelei that satisfaction. The metallic tang of blood invaded her mouth but she fought the pain with every bit of her strength. Her mind screamed for it to end, for something—anything—to come between her and the pain. This couldn't last—surely her body would combust from the strain of this agony. Black spots began taking over her vision.

The curse abruptly ceased just before she passed out. Residual flashes of pain still lanced through her body and her dizzy mind was clouded. Hermione could barely see. She gazed out blearily at the audience, watching confusedly as black-robed figures swept into the room.

"Kill them!" Lorelei screamed, utterly shocked and horrified. She shrieked at her men to repel the intruders; her face was bright red as she sent green Killing Curses towards the intruders. The bubble-like barrier trapping Draco suddenly disappeared as Lorelei's concentration was focused elsewhere.

Flashes of light from in the audience signaled furious dueling below and Hermione struggled to force her body to move. Her limbs felt heavy and weak from the aftereffects of the curse. Lorelei suddenly crumpled to the ground inches away from Hermione, a pained look on her face as her wand soared through the air and into the hand of one of the black-robed intruders.

The intruder made his way to Hermione's side after blasting away Dmitri, who seemed to think it his duty to guard Hermione and Draco during the chaos to ensure that they didn't escape. All Hermione could see was his boots from her position on the floor. She turned her head to the side dazedly to see the dark skin of her tall rescuer.

"Let's get you out of here, Miss Granger," said Marcus, Draco's most trusted Hunter, holding out a hand to assist the fallen Auror.

Hermione took his hand, her head spinning as Marcus pulled her to her feet. "It's about time," she said shakily, a slightly hysterical smile on her face. She looked around for Draco, not seeing him anywhere. "Where's Draco?"

She glanced around the auditorium—the Hunters, all 30 or so strong men who were experienced at this sort of fighting, were winning against the untrained, affluent customers who had been in the audience. A pile of unconscious and wounded bodies was already forming, but Hermione couldn't spot any of the black-robed Hunters among them.

"He's gone to get someone named 'Max,'" Marcus reassured her, glancing around warily. He ducked as a curse sailed over his head. "We've broken their anti-apparation wards and he'll meet us back at the Manor. He gave me orders to protect you and get you out of here."

"My wand," Hermione protested, stumbling as Marcus began the turn to disapparate.

"Draco's got it," he answered, pulling her out of danger and into the blackness of apparation.

Hermione was still protesting as they reappeared just inside the gates of Malfoy Manor. She wondered for a split second why they had apparated outside instead of inside. The evening air was cool on her flushed face and skin. A grunt of confusion from Marcus alerted her to the fact that he hadn't meant to end up outside either. Hermione stepped away from the Hunter and gazed around suspiciously, barely noticing that Marcus was doing the same.

"Maybe I just miscalculated," Marcus said in a low voice, not seeing anything out of the ordinary in the absolutely silent courtyard. The statues looked ominous in the dim light of twilight. "Let's get inside."

As they stepped forward onto the paved path that led to the front door, a soft rustle came from Hermione's left. In a swift movement, Marcus pulled Hermione behind him, his wand held in front of him defensively.

"Show yourself!" he barked in a loud voice.

And that was when all hell broke loose.

Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad flooded from behind trees, statues, shrubs—every possible space. The cacophony as they all yelled at Marcus and Hermione in magically-enhanced voices was deafening.

"Hands up!"

"Magical Law Enforcement Squad—drop your wand!"

"Aurors of the Ministry of Magic—you're under arrest!"

Marcus's face was pale under his dark skin. He dropped his wand instantly and his hands shot up into the air. He briefly entertained the thought of taking Hermione hostage, but the wrath of his boss was too fearful for him to contemplate.

Hermione felt her arms wrenched behind her forcefully by a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad unknown to her. Marcus was quickly subdued and restrained.

Just when it seemed that things were going to be under control as Harry stepped forward to tell Hermione's captor to release her, the air was split with sounds of apparation as Hunters began returning. Hunters sprouted up everywhere, most carrying unconscious bodies of criminals they had recovered from Lorelei's hideout.

Hermione felt the MLES officer release her arms as a Hunter landed directly on his head. She took the opportunity to run to Harry, who was still trying to make his way to her. "Harry!" she gasped, collapsing against her friend's side as he pulled her to safety behind a statue of an imperious-looking wizard.

Harry gently felt Hermione's head and face for heat, running his hands quickly along her body to check for any injuries she might have sustained. "We've sealed off Malfoy Manor so they can't apparate in there; I got your message that you'd enlisted the Hunters to help you go after the gang. We still have to arrest them," he said reluctantly as he let go of Hermione, satisfied that she was unharmed except for her lip, which was bloody from where she'd bitten it during the torture. "They'll be released if a wand check doesn't reveal any Unforgivable Curses. Otherwise, they'll be thrown in Azkaban but it'll be taken into account that they helped you. Did you get the creator of the curses?"

The statue they were behind shook as a stray stunning curse struck it. For the most part, the Hunters appeared to be surrendering but the Aurors were taking no chances.

"I hope so," Hermione replied, glancing around the statue for any sign of Draco. Hunters were being subdued left and right, but Hermione didn't see anyone who looked like Draco. "Draco went after him. It was a woman named Lorelei who used her two-year-old son's exceptionally powerful child's magic."

Harry's jaw dropped at this revelation but he was distracted by Kingsley calling his name. "Stay here since you don't have a wand," he ordered her before he ran to join Kingsley in the arresting of the Hunters.

Hermione obeyed Harry, realizing that she could do nothing to help without her wand. The Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement Squad were separating the Hunters from their captured prisoners. It was easy to tell Lorelei's gang apart from the Hunters; the Hunters all bore the small "M" on the underside of their wrists that allowed them to apparate into Malfoy Manor.

Hermione spotted both Lorelei and August along with most of the rest of their gang. It seemed that very few had escaped the Hunters. There was no more fighting; the Hunters had all surrendered without exception. The Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement Squad began disapparating with the criminals two at a time, until only a handful of Aurors remained.

Hermione stepped out from behind the statue and approached Harry, who was reading a letter brought to him by Bryce Goldberg of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad.

Bryce gave Hermione a derisive sneer, remembering her from when she'd interrupted his interrogation. "Speak of the devil," he scoffed.

Harry turned to Hermione. "You've been officially pardoned and reinstated as an Auror," he told her, his warm smile in sharp contrast to Bryce's mockery.

"Against some people's better judgment," muttered Bryce.

Hermione ignored him, throwing her arms around her friend. "Thank you!" she breathed.

"Hands in the air!" Kingsley's voice boomed. Hermione whipped around so fast that it hurt her neck.

Draco had appeared in the front lawn holding an unconscious child in his arms. He was no longer bleeding from his side; the wound appeared to have clotted. He took in the scene before him, looking tired and furious, but he did as Kingsley commanded, setting Maximilian on the ground carefully before putting his hands in the air.

Bryce's eyes glinted as made sure he was the first to reach Draco. He roughly and quickly handcuffed Draco, holding him still as he whispered something into his ear. Draco gritted his teeth and appeared to be struggling to keep his temper. Hermione flushed with anger, looking at Harry pleadingly.

"Let him go," Harry said heavily.

Kingsley, Bryce, and the other three Aurors there looked at him in open shock.

"He's a licensed bounty hunter," he explained authoritatively. "He has helped us in this investigation. Without him, we might not have found Gary Saunders, who's testified that Draco Malfoy saved him."

Kingsley and the other Aurors all nodded, accepting the word of their department head. Bryce, on the other hand, looked apoplectic with rage.

"You cannot be serious!" he shouted angrily. He forced back Draco's sleeve, revealing the small M on his wrist. "Look at his wrist! He's one of the Hunters! There's a warrant out for their arrest!"

"My last name is Malfoy," Draco sneered coldly, looking down on the man from his three-inch-taller height. "It's a family tradition to have an M tattooed on our wrists."

Hermione walked to Draco. "My wand?" Her face betrayed nothing of what she wanted it for.

"Front pocket," Draco spat, his gaze never leaving Bryce, who refused to let go of his wrists despite Harry's order.

Hermione retrieved her wand and spoke the spell to unlock the handcuffs. As Draco wrenched his wrists free of Bryce, the sergeant let out an angry yell. To the shock of the Aurors and Draco, Bryce, drew back his hand and slapped Hermione across the face so hard that her ears rang. She reeled backwards, Draco's quick hands the only thing keeping her from falling.

A fully-trained Auror, Hermione could have defended herself perfectly well, but she never had the chance. Harry swiftly banished Bryce from the area before the other Aurors or Draco could avenge her. Harry waved the other Aurors away as they tried to approach Hermione, who was being held protectively against Draco's chest.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, pulling Hermione away from Draco and taking her face in his hands. He probed her heated cheek with his fingers. "Nothing's broken," he assessed.

Hermione's lips trembled, her eyes wide. "I'm fine," she whispered. The red handprint marked her cheek vividly.

"You need rest," Harry said concernedly. "Come stay over at my place tonight; we'll get you your apartment back tomorrow."

"She's not exactly fit to travel right now; she's in shock, Potter," Draco said shortly. His clothes torn at his side where he'd been cursed and hair out of place, his eyes nevertheless held a steely glint. "She can stay here—no apparation required. It'll be easier for her."

Harry met Draco's eyes suspiciously. Before he could say anything, Hermione spoke up. "I'll stay here. I just need to sleep," she said in answer to Harry's wounded look. "I'm exhausted and this is closer."

Harry nodded, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. "You've been through a lot," he said. "Come to the Ministry on Monday so we can get you reinstated. If the weekend isn't enough time to recover, take a few more days—it's perfectly fine."

Hermione nodded.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Draco escorted her slowly to the front door of the Manor. "I'm fine," she tried to protest as they walked up a flight of steps. Draco held her arm for support while she leaned on him. "I can walk by myself."

"Now's not the time for heroics, Hermione," Draco stated. "Potter's not here to judge you. You've been tortured and hurt; let me help you." He directed her to room down the same hallway as his. The room was a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom, both lavishly decorated in deep blues and purples. Heavy drapes covered the windows; the only light came from a candle beside the bed which Draco had magically lit. A large red dragon napped in a painting on the wall. Draco led her to the bed, which was large and covered with a thick down comforter.

Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at Draco, her brown eyes large.

Draco touched her bloody bottom lip with his finger. "How did you hurt your lip?"

"Bit it during the torture," Hermione answered, completely and utterly exhausted. The splitting headache from where Bryce had hit her, combined with lingering pain from Lorelei's curse, had weakened her body considerably.

Draco pointed his wand at her lip and healed it with a simple spell. "I'll be right back."

Once Draco had left the room, Hermione eased herself into a lying position on the bed; she was simply too weary to sit up any longer. By the time Draco returned a few minutes later, her eyes had closed lightly. She jerked awake as Draco slid an arm behind her back to help her sit up.

"Drink this," he ordered, holding out a light green potion.

"What is it?" she asked suspiciously.

"Do you really think I would give you anything that would hurt you?" snapped Draco. He pushed the vial against her mouth. "Drink."

Hermione glared at him but did as she was told. The minty potion slid down her throat, sending waves of coolness throughout her body. As the potion spread, the aches and pains vanished, even her head. An inescapable heaviness settled throughout her body and her sleepiness increased tenfold. Her head lolled back against Draco's shoulder, her eyes closing against her will.

"You can explain when you wake up how you got my Hunters to come to our aid." His voice was wry. "My room is just down the hall should you need anything," he said, sounding like an echo from far away. "But the potion will help you sleep." He settled her carefully among the pillows and pulled the covers over her body.

Hermione tried to say something angrily about how the potion wasn't _helping_ her sleep, it was _forcing_ her to sleep, but she couldn't fight sleep any longer. With a soft sigh, she let the darkness of sleep take her.

Always a light sleeper, Draco woke in the middle of the night, completely and instantly awake.

He lay still in the dark for a few moments, trying to remember what had awoken him. The room was completely dark but for the dim light of the hallway that filtered through his half-opened door. The room was silent; he heard nothing at all that would justify him waking up. A barely-audible rustle to his left suddenly had his muscles tense and coiled to strike.

"Draco?"

His eyes adjusted to the dark enough to see that the woman standing beside him was Hermione, as if the tentative voice hadn't given it away. "How are you awake?" was the first thing he could think of to say, his voice husky with sleep. The potion should have kept her asleep for at least the duration of the night, if not most of the morning.

A shaking hand was placed on his bare shoulder. Draco never slept in a shirt; it was a habit that he'd adopted during his school years, when nightmares of Lord Voldemort would cause him to awaken in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat that soaked his shirt and created an inordinate amount of dirty laundry every week.

"I keep seeing them in my head," Hermione whispered brokenly. "All those people; the woman with the tongue curse, the man with no face..." She'd woken up, dizzy and groggy from the potion he'd given her, which couldn't stop the horrible dreams of the people she'd watched being killed. The horror had eclipsed her, and she'd found herself walking to Draco's room with one thought in mind: that he was the only one who could save her from the abyss of grief that she could feel herself on the precipice of falling into.

"Come" was the only word that Draco said as he moved over in bed to make room for her.

Hermione crept into his bed, having the strange sensation of homecoming. She'd been in a transient state ever since she'd left Hogwarts, where she'd last felt at home. From Hogwarts, she had lived with her parents, then the dormitories at the Auror training camp, then back in her apartment. Nowhere she'd lived since Hogwarts had ever felt truly like home to her. As she curled up against Draco Malfoy and felt his arms slide around her, she felt at once completely safe and at home.

The strange realization made an involuntary shiver sweep through her. Assuming she was cold, Draco tucked the comforter more securely around her shoulders and pressed his body closer to hers. Still under the effects of the potion, it took her only moments to fall fast asleep again.


	25. Chapter 25

Hermione woke up long after dawn, yawning and stretching in the large bed. It had been a long time since she'd slept in a bed as comfortable as this. Midway through her stretch, she realized that she was alone in the large bed. She sat up quickly, a sinking feeling in her bones. "Draco?" she called out tentatively. When no reply met her ears, she slowly got out of bed, testing her limbs. She felt good as new—whatever had been in the potion Draco had given her, it had worked.

Hermione wandered the house, her desires split between wanting to find Draco and wanting to explore. An hour later, however, she'd searched the whole house and not found a soul there. It was a stark difference from the previous day when she had come there as a last resort to seek the help of the Hunters.

Marcus and the rest of the Hunters had swarmed her the moment she set foot in the Manor, threatening to kill her on the spot, but she'd kept her wand in her pocket and remained as calm and unthreatening as possible, explaining the danger that Draco was in. Once they heard that their leader was in danger, they ceased trying to harm her. Hermione had given them a copy of the Portkey that August had sent her and told them what time it would activate. She was lucky that they had such loyalty for Draco, because without the Hunters, she and Draco would have dies. Though they were at most times a sexist group of thugs, they had saved her life and she owed them. She knew that she would be remiss not to try to help get them out of Azkaban.

Resolving to fight for the men who had saved her, Hermione made her way back to the bedroom that Draco had put her in the night before and entered the adjoining bathroom. When she saw her reflection in the mirror, she gasped.

Her hair was a wild, tangled mess from both the battle and her nightmares during the night. Dried blood crusted her chin and neck from where her lip had bled. A dark purple bruise was beginning to form on her cheek where she'd been struck by Bryce Goldberg. She touched it lightly, wincing at the pain. The bruise hadn't fully formed the night before or she was sure Draco would have healed it. In short, she looked like a battered mess. Embarrassment flushed her face. She'd definitely have to make a few changes before Draco returned from wherever he was.

Turning on the water in the sink, Hermione gingerly washed her face to get rid of the blood and grime from the battle. Then, she turned to the delightfully large wizarding bathtub and filled it with steaming hot water and pink bubbles that gushed from a golden button on the side when pressed. She shut and locked the bathroom door before easing her body into the hot water. The bath felt like heaven after the rush of the past days and weeks.

She found herself drifting into a doze as the scents of the bubbles filled her nose. They smelled like freshly-cut grass...and roses...and the shampoo that she used to bathe Crookshanks with...and something very masculine that reminded her of blonde hair and strength...and cinnamon and chocolate... The aromas made her vision blur and her head spin.

She realized that there was some kind of magic in the bubbles and tried to fight it, but her wand was on the countertop out of reach and she was fully immersed in the bubbles by this time. She didn't have a chance. She was lost. Her head hit the side of the tub with a soft thud as she drifted to sleep, soaking in the most delicious of sensations.

The things she dreamed of...love and passion and strength and courage...A figure dressed in all black was forefront in every dream, blonde hair blazing with the light of the sun. Hours passed, during which the charmed bathtub magically kept the water hot and the bubbles fresh, even though Hermione spent the time unconscious.

After all, how could the bathtub know that its occupant's head was slipping gradually into the water, where she would surely drown?

A blast of air ripped through Hermione's dream in which she was entangled in the limbs of her black-clad, blonde-haired lover. The passion rippling through her was too much for her to come out of willingly. Warmth closed over her head, invaded her mouth and nose with a pressure that Hermione didn't even care about in the dream. Had she been conscious, she would have known her head had slid under the water and was in sure danger of drowning. But she didn't care. In her head, she was entwined with her love, lying naked on a bed of velvet and roses, petals strewn everywhere, the scents and sensations of everything she adored flooding her senses.

"Hermione!" a faint voice yelled from far in the distance. The warmth around her head, mouth, and nose disappeared as her head was pulled from the water, though the rest of her remained comfortably warm.

Hermione ignored the voice from the real world, burying herself deeper in the arms of the figure who held her in her dreams, who kissed her everywhere and trailed fiery, feverish love throughout her bare skin.

"Snap out of it!" ordered the persistent voice.

Hermione growled and used every bit of her considerable mental strength to push the voice out of her mind. She dimly felt a sensation as if her corporeal body was being shaken, but it didn't matter in this fantasy.

"You leave me no choice," that unrelenting voice stated coldly.

Pain flared as teeth sank into her bare shoulder. Hard. Hermione hissed and clawed like an animal at whatever was holding her and sank deeper into her dream world. The alluring scents and figures were all she could focus on. But then...a hard mouth came down on top of her lips in the physical world, claiming her with a possessive kiss that rivaled even that of Hermione's dream figure. A hot tongue pushed into her mouth, savaging her tongue with skilled, passionate strokes that even _felt_ like velvet.

"Come back," hissed the voice, breaking the kiss for the few instants it took for him to say the words. Then his mouth returned, and his hands were on her body, caressing and stroking her to the point of madness. _"Hermione!"_ Draco Malfoy snarled, his breath hot in her ear.

Hermione's eyes flew open and the overpowering scents were gone, absent from her mind. She was in the bathtub, her back against the side, being kissed out of her mind by Draco. He was fully clothed and soaking wet as he straddled her in the bathtub, which was still steaming hot but now had no bubbles in it whatsoever. Draco's body pressed against hers was all she could think of, and it was so much better than in her head. An involuntary moan escaped her.

At the sound of her moan, Draco broke the kiss, whipping his head up to meet her gaze. When he saw her eyes open and conscious, his grey eyes lost their feverishly passionate cast and turned stormy. His hands left her body, leaving her feeling empty and cold though the water was still quite hot.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" His soft and deadly tone cut through her.

Hermione tried to shield her body with her hands, suddenly embarrassed of her nakedness. Draco had eyes for nothing but her eyes at the moment however. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said stonily, trying to ignore the need for him that she still felt pulsing through her.

He looked ready to explode into a thousand angry little shards of Draco Malfoy, so Hermione hastened to say, "I really _don't_ understand what just happened." Her shoulder throbbed from the bite that had surely been from him.

"Do you really not know?" He seemed oblivious to the fact that he was sitting in a bathtub wearing an expensive suit that was certainly ruined by this point. He must have leapt in the bathtub without hesitating to take off his clothes—or even his expensive-looking Italian shoes.

Hermione bit back a caustic answer and simply shook her head in confusion.

"Have you never been in a wizarding bathtub before?" Draco snapped, some of the anger leaving his countenance at her clear ignorance. When Hermione opened her mouth to answer, he held up a finger. "_Not_ including the ones at Hogwarts?"

Hermione shook her head mutely.

"Yes, well, many of them—for adults, anyway—come with a small golden button that creates bubbles infused with Amortentia," Draco explained, running a hand through his hair to push back the dripping blonde strands that were beginning to fall into his eyes. "When used with a partner, it makes...certain activities...very pleasurable to both parties by enhancing the attraction they feel for one another and heightens the senses of what is occurring between them._ However,_ when used by just one person, the Amortentia seeks to create that which the person desires. Since it can't actually create a corporeal version, it plunges the user into an unconscious dream state where anything can come true."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Hermione muttered, trying to escape the accusing gaze that was fixed on her.

"It is when there's no way for the user to get out of it," Draco said coolly. "You nearly drowned before I got here. I had to break a bloody window to get in."

Hermione glanced around, realizing that the blast of air that had tried to penetrate her dream had come from the broken window opposite the bathtub, next to which lay a discarded broomstick. "How did you get me out of it, then?"

A ghost of a smirk flitted across Draco's face, removing some of his anger. "What were you dreaming about, Hermione?" he purred, his eyes traveling up and down her body.

Hermione flushed hot red, looking away. Draco placed a wet hand on her face and pushed her head until she faced him. "I could only have brought you out of the dream state by being the object of your desire. Amortentia cannot create a more lifelike version of what you desire than the actual thing—or person—itself."

Humiliation turned her face even redder. He_ knew_ she'd been dreaming of him (or at least, some version of him). Draco smirked at her obvious discomfort.

"Why did you bite me?" she growled, embarrassment causing her to sound angrier than she was.

"Pain can sometimes break the hold of the bubbles," Draco drawled, trailing his finger over the bite mark on her shoulder. Unable to resist, he lowered his mouth to her shoulder and planted a slow, open-mouthed kiss over where he'd bitten. His head lowered as it was, Hermione saw four bloody lines marring the back of his neck.

"What happened?" she gasped.

Draco raised his head, eyes clouded with lust. "I believe that's where you struck me when I bit you," he answered mildly.

Hermione blushed even further, if that was possible. She was certainly setting a record today with how red her face was. "I'm sorry," she muttered.

"Not necessary," Draco replied. "Will you allow me to show you what the Amortentia bubbles can be like with a partner?" His lips curved in a smile that could only be described as seductive.

Anticipation made Hermione's heartbeat quicken and her breathing shallow. "N-not right now," she breathed, though she desperately wanted to. She was too frightened to get sucked back into that chasm of desire and lust.

Draco saw her fear. "It's different with two people," he reassured her. "It won't take over your mind like it did before." He'd used the Amortentia bubbles with women before, but he had a feeling that it would be much, much different with Hermione. Here, in the bathtub with her, the scent of the bubbles still lingering in the air, he couldn't get the idea out of his mind.

Hermione hesitated long seconds before finally shaking her head reluctantly. "I really don't want to," she finally admitted.

"I understand," Draco said, though he looked disappointed. "I'll let you finish your bath. Join me in my office after so we can talk."

He stood, rivulets of water streaming down from his drenched clothing. Without another word, he stepped out of the tub, taking care not to slip and fall on the slick floor. "Reparo," he said, and the window magically repaired itself. He unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out, carrying his broomstick. Just before he shut the door behind him, Hermione blurted out, "Why didn't you just unlock the door instead of going through the window?"

Draco turned and said, smirking, "You locked it. Doors in Malfoy Manor _stay _locked."

Once Draco was gone, Hermione pulled the stopper out of the bathtub. No matter how comfortable the water was, she was somewhat wary of the bubbles turning on again. She dressed and magically dried her hair in minutes. She pulled her hair back into a practical ponytail. A spell from her wand easily removed the bruise on her cheek, though the ache still remained. She made a mental note to talk to Harry about Bryce, though it was likely that her friend would have taken care of the matter already.

She transfigured the dress she'd been wearing as part of her Brooke disguise into an Auror uniform, though her badge couldn't be replicated magically of course, for security reasons.

Once appropriately dressed, she headed out of the bathroom in search of Draco's office. She remembered it from her first visit to the Hunters and had no trouble finding the room. She knocked on the partially-open door to be polite.

"Come in," Draco called.

When Hermione entered the room, she saw Draco sitting at the large mahogany desk. Having changed out of his wet clothes, he now wore a casual button-up shirt in a deep blue that complemented the gray of his eyes wonderfully. He was writing a letter with an elegant black quill and ink. A half-full glass of wine rested on the desk beside him. A pristine eagle owl perched on an ornate silver stand behind him, preening its feathers.

"Take a seat," he murmured without looking up from his letter.

Hermione sat in a chair opposite the desk, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Surely he wouldn't be upset that she hadn't wanted to brave the Amortentia bubbles again so soon after her experience with them. Though it had been amazing, she was afraid to lose control again. Control of her life was one of the things that kept her sane. She gazed around the room while she waited, trying not to fidget.

Draco finished writing his letter and attached it to the leg of the eagle owl. Once the owl had flown out the window, he turned to Hermione. "So," he stated, his face expressionless.

"So," Hermione echoed, smirking in a passable imitation of him.

Draco cracked a smile and folded his hands on the table in front of him, sighing. "How in hell did you get my Hunters to help you?"

Hermione relaxed; he wasn't angry with her about the bubbles anymore. She explained what had happened from her point of view, though there were clearly areas of the previous day that were confusing her, such as why she'd awoken deaf and invisible in the graveyard and how Draco had gotten captured. When she was finished telling her side, Draco filled in those holes for her.

Hermione's independent streak immediately fired up when she heard how Draco had protected her in the graveyard. Who was he to decide whether or not she should be involved in something? Her more logical side told her to calm down, that he'd only been trying to take care of her. Which begged the question: why did he feel the need to take care of her?

"Would you like a glass of wine?" he asked politely, filling the silence between them. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. Her lips were pursed and her eyes distracted as she thought over whatever was bothering her.

Hermione grimaced. "This early? No, thank you."

"Would you prefer something else?" Draco asked, standing. He walked around the desk towards her. "Which reminds me, neither of us have had breakfast yet today. Are you hungry?" He was wearing black jeans along with the blue shirt and it struck Hermione that she'd not seen him in informal clothes before today. He was usually in dress robes or expensive suits. While the jeans hinted at designer labels, they were certainly more casual than his usual attire.

"I am, yes," Hermione answered, deciding to let go of the irritation that always came when she felt that someone was treating her like a child.

Draco snapped his fingers and ordered the house elf that appeared to serve them breakfast. The house elf bowed and disappeared with a crack. While they ate in the warm light of the dining room, Hermione asked Draco where he had been in the morning. "I'm trying to figure out what's happened to my Hunters," he said, his face darkening. "They're all in Azkaban awaiting questioning. No doubt they'll be imprisoned for at least a few years. I'll have to do something about that."

Hermione froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. She saw an ominous look on Draco's face. His eyes had turned cold, his mouth set; though the food in front of them looked delicious, he'd barely taken three bites. "Surely you're not thinking of breaking them out?"

Draco's fierce expression met hers. "This is my job, my livelihood," he said tightly, setting his fork down on the table delicately. "Now, I don't blame you for using the Hunters to rescue me—Merlin knows they saved our lives—but I am as loyal to my men as they are to me. I will not let them languish in Azkaban because they were caught while trying to do the right thing. Contrary to what you may think, there's much greater evil out there than a group of men who go after proven criminals."

Passion infused his words, stunning Hermione with his sincerity. He truly believed in what he did. It was almost...inspiring. She found that if she thought about it, she would not be able to say the same thing about the Ministry. The system was flawed; the Minister of Magic had too much power and the Aurors weren't accountable to anyone but him. The Wizengamot was composed of a group of men and women who had been appointed, not elected, to their positions.

"But you're cleared," she couldn't help saying. "If you break them out, everyone will know that it was you; you'll be on the run forever! If they catch you, you'll get the Dementor's Kiss for sure."

"Some things are worth the risk," Draco said stonily. "If you can't see that, then perhaps the Sorting Hat made a mistake when it put you in Gryffindor."

That struck Hermione dumb. She paused, taking several bites of her breakfast while she thought about what he had said.

"The only question is: Having heard what I plan to do, are you going to stand in my way?"

Hermione jerked her eyes up to meet Draco's. He was dead serious, 100% tense, hostile, former Death Eater as his eyes bored into hers. "I don't know," she said honestly. And she was telling the truth. She had never felt so torn in her entire life. Her heart was pulling her in one direction, while her hard-wired Auror brain was pulling her in another.

"I'll give you a week to decide," Draco stated, his face softening only slightly.

They both knew that this decision was about more than the Hunters. It was about whether or not anything was going to happen between them, whether or not they were going to allow what was budding to blossom into something more. They'd both reached the understanding that Draco was going to do what he needed to keep his Hunters out of Azkaban. They also understood that Hermione would have to choose between her duty as an Auror and him. Hermione simply didn't know if she could do that.

She nodded at Draco, and they finished their breakfast in silence.


	26. Chapter 26

Two days later, Hermione was back at work bright and early. She'd spent most of her weekend settling back into her apartment. She'd purposely kept herself so busy that she hadn't had time to even _think_ about Draco and his ultimatum.

When she walked into the Auror department on Monday morning, she was assailed by raucous clapping and cheering from every Auror present. Tonks pulled Hermione into a huge hug, beaming. Gary, who looked fully recovered, clapped her on the back while Neville cheered, "The Hunters _and _the curse makers at once! That's our Hermione!"

Harry came out of his office to see what all the commotion was about. He broke into a smile as he saw Hermione and realized how uncomfortable she was with all of the attention. He beckoned her to come into his office.

"Don't be too hard on her, Potter!" Tonks called, grinning broadly.

Hermione practically ran into Harry's office, eager to escape the suffocating praise. Harry shut the door behind them. Once they were both seated, Harry began. "First off, I want you to know that Bryce Goldberg is suspended for three weeks without pay for striking you," he said, pushing a piece of parchment across the desk to her as proof. Hermione barely glanced at it.

"So, do I get an apology from the Minister?" she asked cheekily, leaning back in her chair.

Harry smiled ruefully. "I wouldn't hold your breath. But there's a press release scheduled for this afternoon, if you'd like to speak at it and get credit or whatever."

Hermione shook her head. While there was nothing she liked better than solving cases, she preferred to let the Auror Department as a whole take the credit.

"Okay," Harry said easily. It was his job to speak at the press conferences on behalf of his department and he didn't mind a bit. "Now, as to your job..."

Hermione couldn't help scooting to the edge of her chair anxiously.

"Managing to bring in not one, but_ two_ hostile crime groups at once is something no Auror has done before," he said, smiling at his best friend. "You've been promoted to a Senior Auror like Kingsley and Tonks."

Hermione gasped. It was unprecedented for an Auror as young as she to attain such a high rank (except for Harry, of course).

Harry went on. "You'll have the first choice of cases as well as a desk in the Senior Aurors' office, instead of out there in the bullpen."

"Thank you, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, unable to believe how much she was being rewarded. The logical side of her brain, however, was suspicious of Harry's sudden change of heart and led her to question, "I only caught a bunch of criminals, though; it's my job. Why am I being promoted just for one incident?"

Harry turned slightly red and he seemed to fidget a little. "Well...it was the Minister's idea, actually. He wanted to reward your efforts of yesterday."

Hermione frowned, looking at Harry warily. The last she'd heard, the Minister wasn't exactly very pleased with her.

With the air of wanting to get it over with quickly, Harry handed her a piece of parchment with times and Ministry rooms on it. "This is the schedule of the trials," he explained. "You'll need to attend the ones that are circled so you can give testimony to put away the criminals that were arrested Friday."

He still looked nervous, and Hermione simply couldn't understand why. Then she glanced down at the parchment. The circled trial dates were mostly names she didn't know, but she did recognize Lorelei's name on there, along with August and Dmitri. More interesting, however, were the dates that _weren't _circled. The Hunters were on the list of trials that Hermione was not expected to attend. Consequently, the trials for the Hunters were at the exact same time as the ones from Lorelei's group. There was no human way she could attend both. Her eyes flew up to Harry's. "I'm not to attend the trials for the Hunters?" she asked, her voice hard.

Harry flinched at her angry expression and reached for an opened letter on his desk. He summarized the contents for her. "Minister O'Bannion appreciates your assistance in arresting these dangerous criminals," he read, his voice heavy. "He also appreciates the dedication you have put forth thus far in your career and sees great things for you in the future. Your help is needed to put _all_ of these criminals away for life." Harry looked up guardedly. "The word 'all' is underlined."

"He wants me to put the Hunters away," Hermione stated bluntly, feeling cold all of a sudden. "This promotion is a bribe. He wants me to keep quiet about their contribution to Lorelei's capture so they can focus on the bad things they've done!" she realized aloud.

Harry flushed but said, "In a nutshell, yes."

"I can't do that!" she cried, standing up angrily. "It goes against everything that I—and you—believe in! I would have died without them!"

Harry went from ashamed to frustrated in a split second. "Oh, come off it, Hermione! These aren't exactly choir angels we're talking about. We've tested their wands, and every single one has used the Cruciatus Curse in the past six months! By that alone, they're already condemned to life in Azkaban! You don't need to testify to their offenses, you just need to keep quiet about what they did yesterday."

"You can't ask me to do that, Harry," Hermione said quietly.

And then, with the air of one playing his trump card, Harry said softly, "Do you think that Malfoy's excuse of 'Everyone in my family has an M tattooed on their wrist' fooled anyone? Do you really think that the Aurors and the Magical Law Enforcement Squad missed the fact that the Hunters reappeared at Malfoy's house? We _know _that he's their leader, without a shadow of a doubt. As easily as he was pardoned, he can be _un_pardoned. He is allowed to go free because of _you._ If you've decided to go against the Ministry, there's nothing to save him. Do you want to see him go back to Bryce Goldberg for interrogation?"

"You're threatening me?" Hermione gasped, still standing.

"I'm only passing on what the Minister has said," Harry said, his voice hard but his eyes tormented.

Hermione could tell that this was only distressing him because he didn't like upsetting her, not because it was morally wrong. The thought made her feel sick.

"The trials start next week, so you don't have to make your decision now."

"What exactly am I deciding?" Hermione asked, trying not to show how upset she was.

"Whether you're going to do the right thing and stick with the Ministry on this, or whether you're going to stick up for the Hunters and humiliate yourself in front of the Ministry officials," Harry said, wincing slightly at the impact that he knew his words would have.

He watched Hermione's face fall and tears spring to her eyes.

"Since the trials start Monday, let me know by Friday what you've decided. You might as well take the week off," he said, trying to ignore the crushed look on his friend's face. "The Minister doesn't want you speaking about this to the other Aurors."

Hermione took one more, tear-filled look at Harry before she fled his office. For the better part of a half-hour, she hid in the bathroom, allowing herself those minutes for mindless self-pity. In effect, she was being forced to choose between Harry and Draco...and between the Aurors and the Hunters. There was simply no way for her to have both. "I'm not going to get emotional about this," Hermione sniffed, wiping her eyes and nose carefully. "I'm going to go home, relax, and I'll think about this later."

And that was how, twenty minutes later, Hermione Granger was pacing around the kitchen of her apartment, not relaxing, and thinking about exactly what she didn't want to think about. She grumbled to herself as she paced, muttering about men and how ridiculous her situation was. She was oblivious to the fact that Romeo, her cat, was following her around the kitchen closely, his blue eyes focused intently on the uneaten ham sandwich that his mistress held in her right hand.

"You know what?" she said, stopping suddenly. Romeo crashed into the back of her legs. "I'm going to visit Fred and George. I am_ not_ going to think about this now." Romeo let out an indignant meow as he ruffled his fur. "I'm sorry, Romeo," Hermione cooed, bending down to rub his ears. She pulled a piece of ham from her sandwich and fed it to her feline friend. The cat purred happily.

After changing out of her Auror uniform, Hermione flooed to the Leaky Cauldron. She waved to Tom as she passed the bartender and made her way to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The shop was nearly empty on this fall Monday morning. School had just begun, and Hogwarts now held the bulk of the twins' customers.

"Hermione!"

Hermione heard her name in surround sound as Fred and George popped up on either side of her.

"It's great to see you!" Fred exclaimed.

"We haven't seen you in months," George said, an uncharacteristic frown on his face.

"I know, I'm sorry," she muttered, looking down unhappily. Even in the presence of her cheerful friends, the gravity of her situation weighed heavily on her shoulders.

The twins picked up on Hermione's depression and immediately sprung into action. "You need one of our Patented Daydream Charms," Fred said, grabbing one of Hermione's arms.

"No," Hermione protested. "I do _not_ need—"

"Yes, you do," George interrupted, grabbing her other arm and marching her over to the large display of Daydream Charms. George grabbed one off the shelf and pushed it into Hermione's hands. "Here you go, free of charge."

"And we'll know if you don't use it," Fred said, trying—and failing—to look ominous.

Hermione sighed and tucked the box into her purse. "Any chance you have any sort of 'decision-making' charms back there?"

"What's going on?" Fred asked. The joking ceased as he and George noticed how genuinely unhappy she really was.

The only customer in the shop left and George quickly shut the door behind him, changing their sign to "Closed for Lunch."

"Come on upstairs and eat lunch with us, Hermione," Fred coaxed. "If I know you—and I do—you haven't told anyone what's bothering you. That's not healthy."

Coming from the inventor of Nosebleed Nougats and Fainting Fancies, Hermione thought that it was a bit hypocritical for him to be talking about healthfulness, but she made no protest as her friends led her upstairs to their apartment.

While Fred moved around in the kitchen getting out teacups, plates, and sandwich-making materials because it was "his turn," George and Hermione sat down at the table, which George had hastily cleaned off using magic.

"So...?" he cajoled.

"I really don't want to talk about it," she moaned, letting her head hit the table with an unceremonious thud.

"Then I shan't push you," George said gaily, realizing he'd have a better chance persuading her once Fred returned. He pulled out his wand and waved it in a looping motion. A deafening bell sound rang loudly throughout the room. "Oi! Garçon! We're hungry!" he bellowed.

"Bugger off, I'm hurrying!" Fred shouted from the kitchen.

Though Fred and George were hilarious, Hermione found it difficult to concentrate on them. She stared off into space absentmindedly.

Fred was theatrically arranging cups of tea on the table and George was eagerly starting on the sandwich he'd been served when Hermione asked the twins thoughtfully, "If you had to choose between the Ministry of Magic and your morals, what would you choose?" She was suddenly desperate for an outsider's opinion.

George choked on his sandwich in a fit of laughter. Fred pounded him on the back enthusiastically and answered, "My dear Hermione, do you not remember mine and George's rather epic escape from Hogwarts in our 7th year? I'd say we would choose our morals over the Ministry any day!"

"Screw the Ministry, Hermione," George said, coughing. "They may mean well, but ultimately they're out to protect their own image and that's all. You need to be true to yourself."

"O'Bannion isn't the worst Minister we've ever had, but he's just like the others, worried about how he looks more than what he does," Fred continued.

Hermione was amused by the fact that even years later, the twins still carried one side of a conversation seamlessly between them. "Yes, but without the Ministry, I don't have a career," she said ruefully, taking a thoughtful bite of the sandwich Fred had made her. "Your marketable skills don't require the Ministry, but mine does."

Fred frowned thoughtfully, but George spoke up. "Your brain isn't just good for tracking dark wizards on behalf of the Aurors, Hermione. I'm sure there's plenty of other jobs you could do."

"You can't let the Ministry force you to choose between them and your conscience. You'll never be happy if you do."

They had a point, Hermione realized as the conversation turned silly. Up until this point, she'd let herself think that she was alone in this situation, that she was the only one who had ever had to make a hard choice when it came to the Ministry. But she wasn't. Fred and George had gone through this too, and they'd made it through all right, right? She ducked as a biscuit thrown by Fred went flying over her head towards George. She was wrong to get so down on herself. She was a Gryffindor, and had been top of her year when she graduated from Hogwarts. She could handle this. She could handle anything.

With a grin on her face, Hermione dug into the delicious cold chicken sandwich and joined in the twins' conversation with gusto.


	27. Chapter 27

Hermione lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was Wednesday morning; she had two days left to tell Harry of her decision and three days to tell Draco. She had already made her decision—the only matter remaining was how to tell them. She didn't want to hurt either of them, but Harry was practically a puppet of the Ministry and Draco was headstrong and arrogant.

"Well," she sighed, "no use in putting it off any longer." She showered and dressed without further delay and was off to the Ministry of Magic in a flash, carrying a very important letter in her hand.

As Hermione entered an empty elevator to take her to the Aurors' floor, she tripped over the space between the elevator and the lobby floor. She pitched forward, throwing out her hands to break her fall, but a strong arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her.

Hermione caught the smell of expensive cologne and grinned, turning to face her rescuer.

"Miss Granger," Draco said, nodding to her as he pushed the button for level two. He winked at her. "Don't worry, I have that effect on many women."

Hermione rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest imperiously. "What brings you to the Ministry, Mr. Malfoy?" she said, matching his formal tone, though her eyes twinkled.

"I'm on the board of trustees for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, remember?" Draco replied, tapping a name badge that was pinned to his robes.

"Ah," Hermione said, remembering back to the night she'd discovered that particular piece of information at the Ministry's benefit for St. Mungo's. "What exactly do you _do_?"

"In a nutshell, I attend a multitude of boring meetings and have input on issues like Auror training and who gets what assignments," Draco answered, sounding bored as he leaned casually against the wall of the elevator, which finally began to move. "I mainly use it to get information for my...hobby."

The elevator was empty except for them, but Draco was clearly taking no chances of incriminating himself.

"Do you have any input on, say, which criminals get prosecuted and which are pardoned?" Hermione asked innocently. She really was curious why Draco didn't just use his influence at the Ministry to get his Hunters released.

Draco's eyes narrowed as he took in her meaning. "Not when the Minister has taken a special interest in them," he answered tightly.

"Well," Hermione said as the doors opened on level two, "have a splendid day, Mr. Malfoy." She turned left, heading for the Auror department.

"Three days, Hermione," Draco called after her as he turned right towards his office.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed as she entered his office.

"Harry," Hermione said, nodding her head. She held out the letter she'd brought with her.

Harry's face fell as he unfolded the paper and scanned it quickly. "You're resigning?" he asked disbelievingly. "Bloody hell, why? No one said you had to resign! Just accept or decline the promotion."

"Even if no one was going to fire me, I can't work for people that condone bribing me not to do the right thing. I'm sorry, Harry—I won't work for anyone at the cost of my own morals."

Harry dropped her letter of resignation onto his desk and slumped back in his chair, looking shocked. "You _love_ this job. What else are you going to do? Does this have something to do with Malfoy?"

"It has something to do with you being the Minister's puppet," she retorted. "How can you just accept it when he tells you to do something that's obviously wrong?"

"In our sixth year, who was the one who refused to be the face of the Ministry because of the way they were treating people? Me!" Harry exclaimed angrily. "I have to pick and choose my battles carefully, Hermione. If these were innocent people, you _know_ I'd be the first one fighting for them!"

"Who are you to deem who is innocent and who isn't?" cried Hermione. She surprised herself by how ardent her defense of them was. But in her time of trouble, when she couldn't get the help she needed from the Ministry because she was wanted for arrest on ridiculous charges, the Hunters had been the only ones to help her. 

"They attacked you—that's enough! Merlin, listen to yourself! You don't even sound like an Auror!"

"Good thing I'm not one anymore, then." Hermione placed her badge on the desk and headed for the door.

Still furious, Harry said nothing as he watched her go.

Fired up and empowered from quitting her job, Hermione decided that she might as well kill two birds with one stone. She strode down the hallway she had seen Draco go down, opposite the one that led to the Auror department. She rarely had the occasion to go down there, since it held the bureaucratic offices for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, such as the Head of Department, the Chairman, and various others.

The doors were all made of heavy wood and imbued with magic so that no sound came in or out, except for a small area above the door knob where visitors were to knock. Hermione tapped lightly on the door that had "_Draco Malfoy_" engraved on the gold plaque. She wondered vaguely why he even had an office for the position he held, but chalked it up to his wealth and influence.

"Enter," Draco called lazily.

Hermione pushed open the door and stepped inside. The office was startlingly bare compared to its opulent counterpart at Malfoy Manor. Aside from the bare essentials of a desk, a bookshelf with several standard Ministry tests, and a filing cabinet, there was little else.

"Can I help you, Auror Granger?" Draco asked, adopting a haughty, formal tone as a Ministry official walked past the open door.

Hermione shut the door. She turned back to face him and replied coolly, "It's not 'Auror' anymore. Just Granger will do. Or perhaps you could even use my first name. It's 'Hermione,' if you didn't know." By the time she finished, her voice was shaking with misplaced anger.

Draco at least had the grace to look properly shocked. "You got yourself fired?"

"Resigned, actually." 

"Why?"

"They offered me a promotion if I stayed away from the Hunters' trials. They just want to convict them all and give them life in Azkaban for Unforgivable Curses without having to bother taking into account the fact that they helped bring in Lorelei's gang," she exclaimed. "It's wrong. I refuse to work for an institution which believes that's okay." She halted abruptly and obviously. 

Draco looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. "And?" he prompted.

Hermione sighed before revealing the other reason why she'd quit, which would clearly show whose side she'd chosen. "To prevent me from attending both, the Ministry scheduled the trials for Lorelei's people—which I have to attend—at the same time as the Hunters'. The Hunters' trials are merely a formality, as the proof of their crimes is in their wands. Since I fully intend to show up to help plead the Hunters' cases instead of doing my job and attending the others, I had to quit. I don't enjoy being manipulated."

Draco's eyes widened. Whatever he'd been expecting her to say, it wasn't that. He looked slightly torn, however. While he needed his Hunters free, he also didn't want it at the expense of setting free the cursemakers who'd nearly killed him. "Are Lorelei and her men in any danger of being released if you don't testify?" he asked cautiously.

"None," Hermione replied, smiling. "If I'm not there to testify, they'll just have to dip into their expensive stores of Veritaserum to get their answers."

Draco was pleased and (if forced to admit it under oath) a bit touched. "You're giving up your career," he stated, walking slowly towards her; a soft smile transformed his normally calculating and tense features.

"Yes," Hermione replied calmly as he approached. She'd made her peace with what she had decided. It no longer upset her—she knew that she was doing the right thing.

"All that you've worked for and trained for." He had almost reached her.

"Yes," Hermione repeated, a smile playing about her lips. He seemed almost in wonder that someone would sacrifice that much for a group of people she hardly knew.

"You are...amazing..." he said, a faint blush infusing his cheeks. He was rather unused to complimenting people sincerely, though he excelled at insincere flattery.

Hermione grinned. "Thank you." She tilted her head back as Draco lowered his head to hers and kissed her deeply. He pulled her close to him as he showed rather than told her how he felt about what she had done.

Hermione reluctantly broke the lovely kiss, though she remained in his arms, her arms loosely around his waist. She rested her head against his chest as she said carefully, "I want you to do something for me."

Draco's chest rumbled against her cheek as he answered lightly, "Anything."

Hermione's heart fluttered as she heard him say the word. She knew he meant it, but she kept it simple. "You have to let me testify at the Hunters' trials before you do anything drastic. Let me try to get them legally released before you turn yourself into the most wanted man in Britain," she pleaded.

They didn't have any kind of future together if Draco broke the Hunters out of Azkaban (assuming he could actually do it). Harry Potter's best friend, the girl who had helped defeat Voldemort, could not—and would not—go into hiding with the renegade leader of the Hunters, no matter how thrilling the situation would seem to the author of a romance novel. She couldn't disillusion Harry and the rest of the Wizarding world. Besides, if she allowed Draco to help the Hunters escape, she would be morally responsible for any crimes they may or may not commit any time in the future. Hermione couldn't have that hanging over her head for the rest of her life.

Draco hesitated above her, his fingers tapping her sides lightly as he thought. "All right. But it's going to be much more difficult to get them out once they've been sentenced than it would be if I did it during the trials."

"We need to talk about that," Hermione replied, pulling away from him so that he could see how serious she was.

A knock on the door interrupted them before Draco would reply. He glanced at the clock and cursed. "I have a meeting to attend." He strode to the door and opened it, revealing a red-faced young man holding a stack of papers balanced precariously in his arms.

"Just take them to conference room B," Draco ordered, shutting the door in the man's face. He turned back to Hermione.

"Can we talk about this later?" he asked hurriedly, grabbing his outer robe off the chair and straightening his tie. "I have to convince nine other men on the Board of Trustees that I am, in fact, not the devil." Though he wasn't being prosecuted for his role as the leader of the Hunters since he had nearly died at the hands of Lorelei's gang while helping Hermione, he was still under suspicion and facing a forced resignation of his position on the Board of Trustees.

"Of course," Hermione replied, smiling a bit at his words.

"Dinner, seven o'clock, at The Ivy?"

"Sounds lovely."

Draco pressed a lingering kiss to Hermione's lips and headed out the door. Hermione touched her lips, smiling absently. Then she made her way back to her apartment to relax on the sofa. A cup of tea and sandwich later found her deep in thought on the sofa with Romeo purring beside her. She had heard of the restaurant that Draco had named—an upscale establishment just around the corner from several theatres. She decided that she would wear the only nice, formal dress that she owned; it was the dress she'd worn to Ginny's and Harry's wedding and she was quite fond of it.

In the meantime, however, she needed to focus on her financial situation. Now that she was without a job, she'd have to rely on her savings until she found another. But what sort of job was available to an ex-Auror? She doubted that she'd ever be able to work for the Ministry again, especially after she defied them by testifying at the Hunters' trials.

She had graduated Hogwarts with N.E.W.T.s in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Arithmancy, Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Astronomy, and Herbology. Her grades alone were enough for her to pursue any career she wanted, but she needed to decide what interested her.

Any career that required a long training period would be problematic, as she didn't have the financial means to support herself for more than a couple months without any income, what with rent, food, and utilities eating away at her savings. She was a frugal person by nature, but she hadn't been able to put aside much money, since the Aurors did not pay very generously. She had been in the Aurors for the spiritual gratification it brought her, not the compensation.

_I've always been good at healing_, she mused. Before she had decided on being an Auror, she had thought about being a St. Mungo's Healer. It would be a challenge that she thought she would be equal to, as she showed more than adequate proficiency at healing spells. Another career she had seriously considered was attempting to get a researching position for the Ministry or St. Mungo's. She excelled at reading books and picking out the pertinent information.

She sighed, relaxing against her sofa cushions with a glass of orange juice in hand. "What to do, what to do," she murmured, picking up her battered copy of Hogwarts, A History from the end table. This book had been her favorite all her life and held fond memories of a little girl reading it for the first time inside a magical castle with a rich and colorful history. As a naïve eleven-year-old, she'd believed that she could do anything she wanted. Real life wasn't like that, she mused morosely.

Sitting beside her, Romeo suddenly meowed indignantly and batted at her book. The logical side of Hermione's brain knew that the cat was irritated that she was reading instead of petting him, but the romantic part of her felt like he was somehow telling her not to give up, that she _could_ be whatever she wanted to be.

Hermione cuddled her cat enthusiastically and settled back into reading, deciding to dwell on this another time. The day slipped by and before she knew it, it was almost evening. She glanced in the mirror above the kitchen sink as she washed the few dirty dishes that had accumulated over the past few days. She had a little over an hour before she had to leave her apartment. She planned to take a taxi to the restaurant since it was far from her apartment and she didn't know a nearby apparation point. Also, she wasn't sure if it was a wizard or muggle establishment, so Flooing could have disastrous results.

A firm knock on her door startled Hermione out of her thoughts. Assuming it was one of her muggle neighbors, she trudged to the door, looking around to make sure nothing looked magical before opening the door.

"Draco!" she exclaimed warmly, surprised to see him there. And oh, did he look good.

He wore a grey suit that accented his eyes with a cream-colored silk shirt beneath it and a light blue tie. His hair looked recently cut and framed his face attractively. He smiled as he took in her appearance.

She was wearing a pair of faded muggle jeans and a shirt she'd had from Hogwarts that said GRYFFINDOR in large, sparkly letters. She looked down at her clothing and frowned at how out of place she looked next to him.

Draco's smile faltered. "May I come in?"

"Of course!" Hermione snapped herself out of her self-conscious thoughts and let him in, frantically glancing at the clock on the wall. Was she late? "I thought you said seven?" she said as they took a seat on the sofa.

Romeo streaked across the room and leapt onto Draco's lap. Draco easily moved the cat off his expensive pants. "Easy, Cannon," he said absentmindedly as the cat purred, nuzzling the man's side. "I did say seven, but—"

"Cannon?" Hermione inquired, confused at his familiarity with her cat.

"I was obsessed with the Chudley Cannons as a child," he answered defensively.

Hermione still looked confused.

"Didn't you realize that I sent him to you with your wand after I repaired your apartment? It was no small feat, let me assure you."

"I—I suspected, yes," Hermione stammered. "But—but he was a kitten when you gave him to me; how could you have had him as a child?"

"Cats have nine lives," Draco said, as if this should be obvious. "He's only on his second."

Hermione stared at him suspiciously, unable to tell if he was making fun of her or not.

"Anyhow, I am here to assist you in putting the wards back up that the Ministry removed from your apartment when you resigned."

Hermione's eyes widened. "I completely forgot about that!" she gasped, cursing herself for her carelessness. It was akin to leaving her front door unlocked in the wizarding world.

"It was brought up at our meeting before they rounded on me," Draco said, his mouth twisting slightly.

"How did that go, anyway?" She and Draco stood back to back as they began the complicated series of charms to ward a wizard's home against intruders.

"I've been removed from my position," he said coolly between charms. "It appears I'll have to get my cases elsewhere, if I can even continue my work."

"Why can't you continue?"

"Because—" He paused to weave a spell into the warding charm that Hermione had never heard before. "Even if you get them released, the second that the Hunters bring in another criminal, they'll be arrested again since the Ministry knows who they are. I'm sick of the damn Ministry anyway—might move to America after this," he said angrily.

Together it took them only a fraction of the time to put the wards back up that it would have taken Hermione by herself. "Thank you for helping," Hermione said once they were done.

Draco nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose distractedly. Hermione could tell how stressed he was over his future in addition to the exhaustion that came from putting up the wards. "Why don't we stay here?" she said thoughtfully. "I don't feel much like going out, do you?"

Draco shook his head. "Not really, but I don't want you to have to—"

"I enjoy cooking," Hermione interrupted. "Let me just go do something real quick."

She rushed to her bedroom, quickly stripping off the clothes that were so at odds next to Draco's. It took her only five minutes to select and don a black skirt and light pink sweater that went just low enough in the front to give a hint as to her cleavage without being obscene.

She hurried into the bathroom next and aimed her wand at her hair, charming the messy ponytail into loose curls that tumbled down her back in an orderly sort of chaos. She didn't bother with makeup other than a little eyeliner.

Draco was standing near one of her bookshelves when she returned, absentmindedly reading the spines. He turned as he heard her approach, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Lovely," Hermione thought she heard him murmur, but she couldn't be sure. He normally only saw her in her Auror uniform or wearing slutty clothes in the guise of Brooke Locke. She was beautiful, standing before him relaxed and in a skirt that revealed just enough of her leg to make his blood rush—

He realized she'd spoken and mentally shook himself for his lack of control. He, Draco Malfoy, was always in control. "Sorry, what?"

"You're not allergic to anything, are you?" she repeated patiently, heading for the kitchen.

"No," Draco replied, biting back a scornful comment about how purebloods weren't allergic to anything. He watched interestedly as she began taking food ingredients out of cupboards and even a strange white box that contained cold food. His eyes widened as she deftly maneuvered a wicked-looking butcher knife to chop vegetables, wincing when the knife came down close to her slender fingers.

"Why don't you use magic?" he asked, holding his breath as she made another slice.

"I find it relaxing to do it by hand," she replied.

Draco watched while she finished with vegetables, unable to think of anything that he would find_ less _relaxing. He had never cooked in his life; house elves had always prepared his meals for him and he'd never really thought about where they came from.

Hermione was aware of his intent observation on her. His interest didn't abate as she began thawing the chicken in the microwave.

"Stop staring at me; you're making me nervous!" she said finally, laughing a little nervously. His intense gaze was really starting to unnerve her since she was unable to tell what he was thinking.

Deep in thought about how the microwave could possibly work without magic, Draco quickly refocused on the young woman who was speaking to him. "Oh, am I?" He seemed genuinely curious.

"Yes!"

"I'll be back, then," he said, smirking as he walked into the living room. Hermione heard him disapparate seconds later.

He didn't return until Hermione had nearly finished cooking dinner thirty minutes later. She heard Draco's knock just as she finished setting the table. She opened the door to find him standing there, a bouquet of deep red roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. The flowers had come from a wizarding florist, she knew, since gold and silver sparkles shimmered and danced among the petals.

"It wouldn't do to arrive to dinner empty-handed," Draco murmured, holding the flowers out to her.

"They're beautiful," Hermione whispered; she'd never been given such exquisite flowers before. The scent radiating from the leaves was intoxicating as she put them in a vase with water.

She put the vase at the center of the table and turned around, nearly running into Draco, who had approached without her noticing. Hermione met his lips with hers, smiling into the kiss. "It smells delicious," Draco noted as they parted. "Didn't poison it, did you?"

"With the latest from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, actually," Hermione said with a straight face. "I can't wait to see what it turns you into."

The two of them began to eat the meal that Hermione had cooked, saying little as they ate and drank. "Not to mix business with pleasure," Hermione began as Draco poured her a glass of wine, "but there was indeed something that we need to talk about."

"The Hunters," Draco stated, sliding his knife through the tender chicken breast with ease.

"Yes. I really would like—"

A forceful pounding on the door startled them both. Hermione and Draco exchanged troubled looks, drawing their wands. Hermione opened the door slightly, her wand at her side. Draco stood just inside the door, which opened inwards, so that he couldn't be seen. Two officers from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad stood outside her door.

"Miss Granger," stated one of them, a grim, powerful-looking man with dark brown, neatly-kept hair.

"Yes?" Hermione was wary. What were they doing here?

"I'm Officer Davidson with the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. You're under arrest for treason. Please surrender your wand."

Hermione's eyes grew very wide. She immediately held out her wand, ignoring Draco's angry groan from her left. "Who is the order from?" she asked faintly, wincing as Officer Davidson's partner kicked the door fully open and pushed her against the wall to pat her down for additional wands.

"The Minister of Magic," replied the other officer, whose badge read "Walker."

Officer Davidson had spotted Draco by this time, leaning insolently against the wall, his wand carelessly in hand. "Don't think we don't know who _you_ are, Mr. Malfoy," Davidson said menacingly. "Leave the premises immediately while you still can."

Draco hesitated, his wand still raised. He looked devastatingly dangerous and appeared to be deciding whether or not he wanted to take on the two officers.

"Draco," snapped Hermione, her face white, "leave _please."_

It was the "please" that did him in. With a frustrated roll of his eyes, he pushed past the other men and stalked out.

Hermione knew that the best thing for her to do was to keep her mouth shut; anything she said could and probably would be used against her. The officers handcuffed her and marched her into the hallway, where—after casting a spell to hide themselves from muggles—they apparated away.

Hermione felt where they were going before the sensation had even left her body. A grey sense of despair seized her body as they landed outside the massive grey stone structure that made up Azkaban Wizarding Prison.

Hermione had been to the prison thrice before, but those times she had been questioning prisoners with the protection of her otter Patronus. The two officers beside her weren't immune to the effects of the Dementors prowling the perimeter either; their mouths were set in thin lines and their grips on her arms tightened involuntarily.

Hermione was taken through the doors of the prison and released to a pair of guards into what she recognized as the room where they registered new prisoners. The atmosphere of the room was thankfully lightened by the Patronuses of several guards walking around.

Hermione went through the booking process as if in a daze. She was in shock, unable to believe this was actually happening to her. Her wand was weighed, examined, and registered before being taken from her sight. Guards cast several detection spells to reveal any hidden charms or deception that she might have concealed on her person.

She answered their biographical questions numbly: name, address, birthdate, wand type, etc. She was informed that her lawyer would be by within the next few days to speak with her, and her questioning was scheduled for a week later. She was not yet a prisoner, but would remain in Azkaban until her trial.

The guards and officers were polite but efficient as they went through the booking process. They showed no pleasure or sympathy in arresting the former Auror; they acted as if they didn't even know her, though one of the guards had spoken to Hermione on many occasions when she had needed prisoner information.

She was made to change into one of the red jumpsuits that had the word "PRISONER" emblazoned on the back in large black letters. Her former clothes were taken away. Now thoroughly entered into the system as awaiting questioning and looking like a criminal, Hermione was led to a cell. Out of the protection of the guards' Patronuses, the darkness caused by the Dementors mixed with her own despair and Hermione Granger curled up on the bare floor, sobbing helplessly.


	28. Chapter 28

Four long days passed exactly the same. Hermione huddled in a corner of her cell, her arms wrapped around herself as if she could protect herself from the terrible memories elicited by the Dementors lurking around the corridors. She'd seen many terrible, gruesome things as an Auror, and she relived each one of these memories over and over every moment of the day.

She watched Ron die over and over again. She repeatedly relived the horror of the basement at August's hideout. Her dreams were filled with blood and pain, relentlessly eating away at her spirits. Food was pushed into her cell twice a day, but she couldn't even think about eating. There was little to no noise in the area of Azkaban that she was in, except for occasional sobbing from other cells.

On the fifth day of her imprisonment, Hermione felt a sudden blissful relief from the anguish as the silvery light of a terrier Patronus made its way to the door of her cell, chasing away the fear and sadness caused by the Dementors. She struggled to her feet as the door to her cell clanged open.

"Your lawyer is here to meet with you," said the guard, leading her from the cell.

Hermione entered the questioning room shakily, blinking at the bright light that blinded her after two days of gloom. A man that she vaguely recognized from _Daily Prophet_ advertisements sat at the table with a file folder and blue water bottle next to him. He looked up as she sat down in front of him.

"Miss...Granger, is it?" he asked as the guard left with his terrier Patronus.

"Yes."

The lawyer's fox Patronus gamboled about the edges of the room, carrying with it a sense of warmth and relief from the Dementor's crushing presence in the prison. The lawyer himself was a tall, well-built man in his late twenties with dark hair and strong facial features. "I'm Bryan Cooper," he said, holding up his identification, which acknowledged him as a Magical Legal Aid lawyer appointed to those suspects who didn't have a lawyer of their own.

His hazel eyes gazed into hers calculatingly when she didn't offer the customary response of "Nice to meet you," or something along those lines. He seemed to absorb her depressed, listless countenance and the helpless fear in the depths of her eyes. "So," he said briskly, glancing into the file folder in his hand. "You're being charged with treason."

Hermione found herself slowly beginning to perk up in the presence of the fox Patronus that allowed her to think above the hopelessness that had begun to consume her. A little optimism began to creep its way into her heart. "And I have no idea why," she replied angrily.

"We'll get to that," the lawyer said pompously, with the air of brushing her off. He put the folder on the table and clasped his hands on top of it. "First, why did you just hand over your wand and allow yourself to be arrested on what were obviously trumped-up charges?"

"What does that have to do with—" She halted; her eyes flicked to the fox Patronus—the sneaky, clever FOX Patronus—then to the blue water bottle, and finally back to Bryan Cooper's cool eyes. She slowly reached for the water bottle. "May I?" she asked sardonically.

Cooper smirked and nodded, all but confirming Hermione's suspicions.

Hermione unscrewed the cap and glanced at the murky grey contents. Exhaling sharply, she set the bottle back on the table and slumped into her seat. "Do you have a death wish?" she hissed.

"You may speak freely in here. No one is listening; lawyer's privilege."

"Draco Malfoy, what are you doing here and what have you done with the real Bryan Cooper?" Hermione gasped out, her heart racing a mile a minute.

"Oh, relax; he's under the drawing room floor of the Manor, sleeping like a baby." Bryan Cooper—Draco Malfoy, rather—stood up. He looked rather impressed that she had seen through his Polyjuice Potion so well, though he really had made it easy for her. "No one can see in," he said, gesturing to the solid cement walls and steel door.

Hermione stood and made her way around the table, shaky from four days of not eating. She threw her arms around him, slight sobs wracking her body. She hadn't actually thought that he would come for her, particularly in this manner. Draco held her close, stroking the hair of his fiery woman who was so vulnerable at this moment. He had never been in Azkaban himself, but he knew well what the Dementors did to a person. "It'll be all right, love," he murmured soothingly. "We'll fix this."

Though inwardly her heart fluttered at his term of endearment, she had other things on her mind as she pulled away unhappily. "How?" she demanded. "How can this possibly be fixed? Treason is the most serious charge there is!"

"You're not actually going to be tried," Draco reassured her, pulling her back against him.

She pulled away again as she processed this. "What?"

"I spoke to the Minister in the guise of your lawyer; he was legally bound to tell me that you've only been arrested so you'll be in prison during the Hunters' trials," he explained, anger twisting the strong face of the lawyer he was impersonating. He noticed that Hermione's legs were trembling, so he sat back down in his chair, pulling her into his lap despite her soft protest.

She clung to him tightly, only a little unnerved by the fact that his body wasn't what she was used to. "I missed you," she breathed, so softly that Draco wasn't sure she'd even said it.

"And I, you," he replied in a low undertone, kissing her on the forehead as she relaxed in his arms. "Drink this." He pulled a nourishment potion out of his pocket, which Hermione drank quickly. She smiled slightly as strength and vitality flooded her limbs, making up for the days she'd gone without food. She reached for his hand as Draco began to continue explaining what he'd discovered.

"Today was the first day of the Hunters' trials," he said, entwining his fingers with hers as she rested her head on his shoulder. "They sentenced four to life in Azkaban and one to the Dementor's Kiss. No mention of their help to the Aurors was even made. They barred me from the courtroom," he said bitterly. "You're suffering in this prison so that they can prevent justice."

"Does Harry know that I'm in here?" Hermione asked sadly. She was already completely disillusioned with the Ministry of Magic, but she prayed that Harry wasn't involved.

Draco hesitated. As much as he would love to tell Hermione that his old school enemy had been behind this, he couldn't lie to her. "He does not. He's been looking for you; showed up at your apartment the other day. No one besides the Minister of Magic and the officers who arrested you know where you are. Potter's frantic for information about you."

Hermione bit her lip, thinking. At least Harry hadn't had a hand in having her arrested. "So I'm just going to sit in here for the next five days until all the Hunters are convicted."

"That's one option."

"What's the other?" she asked warily.

"Allow me to get you out of here," Draco said lightly. "Don't just sit here and let them do this to you. Come away with me."

"It's five days, Draco. Why would I let you break me out of here—assuming you even could—and have the both of us wanted for the rest of our lives?" She looked up at him, trying to find the man she knew in the strange hazel eyes of the body he was in. His suggestion didn't make sense.

"I'm going to break my Hunters out," he stated firmly, watching her face turn from inquisitive to shocked. "I would have let you testify before I did anything like this, but it's become increasingly clear that the Ministry isn't going to give them a fair trial. These men have shown me nothing but the utmost loyalty and respect; I'm not going to leave them in the dust."

Hermione smiled sadly. "You have no idea how Gryffindor you sound."

"I want you to come with me," he said intensely, his mouth set in a firm line.

Everything was happening so fast. "Where are you going to go?" Hermione asked desperately.

"My parents had an Unplottable estate in Scotland. Come away with me; no one will find us there."

He was actually asking her to leave with him; leave her friends, her family, everyone and everything she has ever known. Yet, the choice was far easier to make than she would have thought.

The fervency of his plea nearly convinced her, but for one thing. "I will go with you," she said, not missing the relief and triumph in Draco's eyes, "but you won't break me out of here. I'll wait until they release me." She ignored Draco's sigh. "If you're going to break the Hunters out while I'm in here, just leave me a Portkey or something somewhere for when I get out so I can follow you. I'm not going to break the law and have to go on the run for the rest of my life over a week of imprisonment."

Draco nodded, seeing the wisdom of what Hermione was saying, though he hated to see her thin body in the hideous prison uniform. He could tell she hadn't been eating. "Fine. I will leave the Portkey in the hidden room that you found the last time you went to the Manor. The key to my rooms will be left under the mattress of your bed and to get into the Manor, just place your hand against the front door and speak your name. Once the Hunters are out of Azkaban, they might search your apartment. A portkey can be detected, but a nonmagical key cannot."

"But, how are you going to get them out of Azkaban?" Hermione asked worriedly. "The guards aim to kill if there's threat of a breakout."

Draco smirked. "Magical, linked tattoos are a wonderful thing," he said meaningfully, winking down at her. "There's so much one can do with them."

Hermione didn't reply; her stomach felt queasy about the whole thing.

"It's about time for me to return you," Draco said reluctantly. "Don't worry about a thing." He took a long swig of his water bottle filled with Polyjuice Potion as they both stood up. "I'll see you soon," he said, flashing her a cocky smile. 

"Be careful," Hermione pleaded, pulling him close for a last embrace.

"I'll do my best." Draco banged his fist on the door three times to summon the guards. "And Hermione? Make sure you eat."

Hermione went back to her cell, armed with a weapon she hadn't had before: hope.

While the draining power of the Dementors was considerable, Hermione was able to last that day and the next without reliving any of the horrible memories that had become a staple of her time in Azkaban. Their power was considerably lessened by the simple fact that Hermione knew her stay was only temporary. She worried, though. She worried every second of every waking moment. Something was nagging her about Draco's plan—something that bothered her about it, but she could never quite think of it.

Adrenaline coursed through her body every time she heard a noise. While it was ridiculous to assume that the Hunters would be imprisoned near her in the massive building, she kept waiting for some sign that Draco had either failed or succeeded in his mission. The fight or flight chemicals flooding through her veins every time she heard a noise of any kind exhausted her body, making it very necessary for her to eat, even when she didn't feel much like it.

"Here," the guard said gruffly, pushing a tray through the bars of her cell on the third day after Draco's visit. The fare was the same as it had been every other day: a thin, lukewarm soup with pieces of cabbage floating in it, a lump of bread, and a plastic glass of room-temperature water. As the guard turned to leave, an earsplitting clanging rent the air, causing both the guard and Hermione jump. "Prisoner escape!" gasped the guard, his face white. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and rushed off out of sight.

Hermione waited anxiously for news; the loud clanging of the alarm bell was the only thing she could hear. Had Draco been successful? Or was he even now being dragged to the Dementors to have his soul sucked from his body? She was unable to keep still; she paced the small cell, the aura of the Dementors forcing her to think the worst. Over an hour passed before the alarm finally ceased.

The next guard that walked by was pale and sweaty, but Hermione recognized him as a man she'd spoken to once or twice as an Auror. "Officer Matheson!" she called, hoping the use of his title instead of his first name (Christopher) would entice him to give her some information.

Officer Matheson halted and turned back to her cell. "What?" he asked curtly.

"What just happened?" she asked, keeping the desperation out of her voice as best as she could.

The guard glanced left and right before approaching her. "There was an escape," he confided softly. "The largest since You-Know-Who was around." He strode off, his dragonfly Patronus fluttering behind him.

Hermione collapsed on the cot in her cell, weak with relief. Draco had gotten away with it_. So far_, she amended.


	29. Chapter 29

Three Days Later...

Hermione was roused in the morning by the door to her cell sliding open loudly. Officer Davidson, the officer who had arrested her, stood there, his face impassive. "Miss Granger, you are free to go. Turns out there was a clerical error and you were arrested by mistake. You have the Ministry's apologies."

Hermione didn't speak a word to the man as she was escorted from her cell and given her possessions back. She maintained a haughty silence until she was outside the prison. She was about to leave when Harry Potter suddenly popped into view. He blinked twice as he saw her at the designated apparation point.

"Hermione?" he gasped. "I've been looking for you _everywhere!" _

He pulled her to the side, where she told him that how she had been "mistakenly" arrested to prevent her from testifying. Harry's eyes flashed with anger at this revelation, but asked her, "Didn't you hear? Only the first two days of trials actually happened; someone broke them all out of Azkaban the next day!"

Hermione projected an expression of shock. She really wanted to end the conversation so she could get to Draco and make sure that he was all right, but she had to deal with Harry first.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her all-too-innocent expression. "I know that you are—or were—romantically involved with Draco Malfoy," he told her, as if either of them could forget the time that he had burst in on them in Draco's bed. "He's disappeared completely; his mansion in Wiltshire is too well-protected by spells for us to get into, but we verified with a spell that nothing living is hiding inside. Do you know where he is? He's our top suspect in this."

"I have no idea, Harry," she lied, her face perfectly straight. Not even a trained interrogator would suspect her of lying. "I've been locked up by your boss for the past eight days, remember?"

Harry winced. "I had no idea, Hermione, believe me."

"I do. And it's fine. But, I'm going to go now; my cat has been locked in my apartment for eight days; Merlin only knows the state of my carpet." As the words left her mouth, she wanted to kick herself. When she lied, she tended to prattle on, not thinking before she spoke. Luckily, Harry was too distracted to notice that Hermione had as much as said that she cared more about her carpet than her beloved pet.

"I'll see you later then," Harry said, heading for the entrance to the prison. It was a mark of how much their relationship had deteriorated that he didn't even move in for his typical goodbye hug.

As Hermione turned to disapparate, she didn't see Harry sending a quick Patronus message into the air.

The first thing she noticed when she entered her apartment was that Draco had placed a Refilling Charm on Romeo's food and water bowls. Thank goodness the cat hadn't starved. The attention-starved feline rocketed across the room and began weaving his body affectionately through her legs. Hermione scooped up her little cat and scratched him behind the ears until he was purring madly. Once Romeo was satisfied that his mistress was back and paying attention to him, Hermione was able to make her way to her bedroom. She lifted the mattress and found the familiar iron key that unlocked the suite of room of Malfoy Manor that Draco kept locked.

Impatient to get to Draco, Hermione began the process of packing her things. In the few years she'd lived in the apartment, she hadn't accumulated much in the way of possessions. Other than clothes, books, and potions equipment, she owned little else. Everything except her books fit into one trunk; her books filled another two. "I'll have to summon these later," she murmured to herself.

Reluctant to leave Romeo when she wasn't 100% sure that she would be able to easily return (she didn't know if she'd encounter any trouble trying to leave the country), she took everything out of her purse except for her identification and bank cards to make room for Romeo. The cat's head poked out of the purse, but it would serve well enough as a carrying case.

As she headed for the door to make her final departure from the apartment, she glanced out the window one last time, doing a double take as she did so. There was someone outside watching her apartment building! She was on the third floor, her window overlooking the front of the building. A man dressed in Auror clothes stood across the street, leaning casually against a tree. His sharp eyes were focused on the front door.

The Ministry was watching her, probably to see if she would inadvertently lead them to Draco! Hermione backed away from the window as her adrenaline kicked in. A sort of calm came over her body. They were messing with a fully-trained and talented Auror; this was where she excelled. They had no chance. She would walk right out the front door and they wouldn't even notice a thing.

Auror Martin Giles leaned against the tree that he'd been ordered to stand by until his relief arrived. This was supposed to be his day off, but he had received an urgent Patronus from Head Auror Potter, ordering an immediate surveillance of former-Auror Hermione Granger's residence. If she left, he was to follow her without being seen. If at any time he saw Draco Malfoy, whose picture was all over the newspapers, he was to immediately call for backup and wait until they arrived before engaging the man.

So far, he'd merely been bored. A few muggles had entered and left the building, but not much else had happened. At least he was getting paid overtime for this.

A quick scan of the building had revealed that standard anti-apparation wards were still covering Granger's apartment, and Giles was confident that she wouldn't elude him by risking exposure and disapparating from the stairs. There was no back door, so she would have to leave by the door he was watching.

He stiffened and stood up as the door opened again. He relaxed almost immediately as he took in the appearance of the woman who stepped outside. The blonde woman with short, bouncing curls walked away from the door in a bright pink skirt and matching top. Large, flowered earrings hung from her earlobes. She carried a bright yellow handbag, out of which a white cat poked its head.

Giles had only interacted with former Auror Granger a handful of times, but he had seen the photo that Head Auror Potter had shown him, and this woman was definitely not her. His sharp eyes caught the utterly impractical high heels that she wore and knew for certain that this was not the woman he was looking for. Just as a formality, he cast a surreptitious, nonverbal charm that would reveal any Polyjuice or glamour spells; as he'd suspected, there were none on the girl. He watched idly as the woman flounced off down the street before he returned his gaze to the apartment building once more.

Hermione rounded the corner and entered the first coffee shop she saw. Heels clacking obnoxiously on the tile floor, she headed for the bathroom, furtively pushing Romeo's head into the bag so that she wouldn't be thrown out for having an animal in a food establishment. Once in the single, one-person bathroom, she grinned into the mirror. "Success," she whispered quietly. She'd felt the light brushing of a detection spell as she walked past the Auror, but as she hadn't used any glamour charms to change her physical appearance, she knew that she was safe. The blond hair was a wig that she had transfigured from a corn husk, the clothes altered magically until they were unrecognizable for her, and the purse had been colored with a charm. The ridiculously high heels, however, were hers, and were quite uncomfortable. It took Hermione just seven seconds to fix her clothing and accessories until she looked like herself again. She now wore a pair of muggle jeans, a purple t-shirt, and tennis shoes and carried a black purse with her little white cat inside of it.

After unlocking the door for the next person, Hermione disapparated.

She reappeared on the courtyard of Malfoy Manor, her wand at the ready as she quickly looked around for Aurors. If the Aurors were watching her, they would certainly watching be watching Draco's Manor to see if he would return there. Her quick scan of the front lawn revealed an Auror standing next to an enormous fountain right in the center of the massive lawn.

The female Auror looked shocked to see her there. From her frozen look of surprise and the fact that Hermione had never met her before, she was clearly a first-year rookie. The two stared at each other for a moment, wands raised as each waited for the other to speak first.

Hermione rolled her eyes inwardly; the Auror should have identified herself and ordered Hermione to drop her wand by now. Hermione attacked first. "Obliviate!" The Auror dropped her wand as her face went blank. "Stupefy!"

As the Auror began to fall to the ground, Hermione rushed forward, catching her and lowering her carefully to the ground. Romeo meowed in distress as the purse he was in swung around.

Not knowing how long she had until the Auror woke up, Hermione ran to the front door. She placed her palm against the door and said, "Hermione Granger." The door unlocked with a click and Hermione pushed it open, glancing behind her to make sure the Auror was still unconscious. Ordinarily she would have felt bad for what she'd done, but after the horrible experience of Azkaban that the Minister had forced her into, her levels of guilt were quite low.

Hermione slipped inside Malfoy Manor and shut the door behind her, wincing as a horrible smell hit her nostrils. Romeo let out a fearful hiss and burrowed into Hermione's bag until his furry head could no longer be seen. The entryway was dim, lit only by the light coming through the skylight set high in the ceiling. All of the lamps were dark.

"Lumos domus!" The unlit candles in all of the dark lamps and chandeliers lit up immediately, illuminating the grisly scene in the entryway. Her startled gasp echoed menacingly in the empty house. Three bodies lay on the carpet. Blood stains on the floor showed that they had died brutally. Judging by the smell, the bodies had been there at least two days.

"Homenum Revelio!" Hermione cast a spell to reveal any humans in the area. Nothing happened. She remembered Harry's words to her a few hours earlier: the Aurors had done the spell to check for human presence in the house but it had come back negative. Of course, the spell had been designed for the living, not for locating dead bodies.

Hermione walked over to the bodies with some trepidation, terrified that one of the bodies would be Draco's. The first body looked as if he had been hit with a very nasty slicing curse; his head was nearly severed. It was Ed, one of the Hunters. The other two had been dispatched in similar ways and were also Hunters.

What had happened? Had the Hunters attacked each other after being released? Somehow she couldn't see Draco allowing such a thing. It couldn't have been the Aurors; they never would have left the bodies to rot. A sense of urgency to see Draco spurred Hermione to hurry towards Draco's rooms. Along the way, she saw smashed paintings, broken glass, and curse marks along the floors and walls. She passed three more bodies, all killed with the Avada Kedavra curse and all Hunters, by the time she reached Draco's door.

Once she was inside Draco's bedroom, she shut and locked the door behind her, just in case whoever had killed those Hunters returned. Draco's bedroom looked untouched by the violence elsewhere in the Manor. Her keen eyes noticed several things missing—personal items like the journal on his desk and several books. Without further ado, she headed for the bathroom to enter Draco's secret room above the sinks.

The secret room looked exactly as it had before, but for a copy of Hogwarts, A History lying directly in the center. Even though she knew that this had to be the Portkey, the perfectionist in her cast a spell to verify it. When she was satisfied that this was indeed a Portkey, she touched it with a finger and closed her eyes as she felt herself whisked away.

It was the longest Portkey trip she had ever traveled. Long minutes of the dizzying, jerking sensation passed before she was dropped unceremoniously on a grassy hill in the middle of nowhere. She stood up, reaching into her purse to stroke Romeo's head. The little cat purred, seeming unfazed by the Portkey travel.

Hermione gazed around anxiously, wondering where she'd been sent. Rolling meadows surrounded her, streaked with flowers. In the distance, green mountains loomed, a hazy fog indicating a coming storm.

A slight bit of fear crept into her brain as she realized she was utterly alone. Why would Draco bring her to such a remote location?

Without warning, a man suddenly apparated right in front of her. "Miss Granger, so lovely to see you again," Mark Williams said, his handsome face slightly gaunt from his months in Azkaban.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. Without thinking, she whipped her wand up faster than she ever had before in her life and screamed a powerful binding curse. Mark's grin slid off his face as his wand went flying and his arms and legs were bound with strong cords. At the same time, a pair of strong hands came down on Hermione's shoulders from behind and forcibly dragged her into apparation.

Hermione's feet hit the hardwood floor, and she whirled around to face Draco Malfoy, whose face was even paler than usual. "What in the world is going on?" she cried, putting her purse on the floor as Romeo struggled to be free. "I have to get back there and arrest him!" 

Draco dragged her into his arms, his heart finally beginning to slow as he held her safe against him. "It was the tattoos," he breathed.

"Mark has one too!" Hermione realized out loud, putting things together quickly. Before Draco could say anything further, she sent a Patronus to Harry, informing him where he could find the bound Mark. "What happened?"

"Yes," Draco replied, wincing as she gazed up at him in reproach. "When I created the spell, I used magic to bring every Hunter with the "M" tattoo to my Manor. I didn't remember that Mark still retained his tattoo. When all the Hunters reappeared in the foyer of the Manor, I began handing out wands. In all the chaos of thirty-something Hunters fresh out of prison congregating in one area, Mark grabbed one and managed to slaughter three Hunters before we even knew what was happening. More were killed trying to escape. None of us had any defense against him since we've made Unbreakable Vows not to use magic against him."

"I understand all that, but how did he show up where your Portkey brought me?" Hermione asked, bewildered. She was finally calm enough to glance around at her surroundings. She was in the living room of a pleasant-looking house. The walls were painted a bright yellow that helped illuminate the room even though the sun was hidden behind thunderclouds.

"This house is protected with an exceptional number of powerful spells, and without being with the secret-keeper—me—you wouldn't be able to get in. No one can apparate or portkey inside unless they are with someone who has Malfoy blood." He noticed Hermione's impatient sigh and got to the point. "That field was the apparation point that I told all of the Hunters before I realized Mark was with us. Marcus asked if you were joining us, and I made the mistake of telling them that you would meet us there. Mark had been waiting for you ever since, and I've been following him."

Hermione sucked in a breath as Draco finished. "I could have been killed."

Draco winced at how impotent the whole thing made him seem. "Yes."

Hermione shook her head, unable to believe how close she had come once again to death. "Where are the other Hunters?" she gritted out.

"They're on their own," Draco replied. "Most are leaving Britain, but none of them are here. I've officially disbanded the Hunters. Their identities aren't a secret anymore, so the entire principle of unaccountability isn't there anymore."

Hermione was surprised by this. He must really have cared about the Hunters to have broken them out of Azkaban when it didn't even benefit him in any way since he was just going to disband them anyway.

Draco's face softened. "I didn't intend to put you in danger," he said, sounding almost ashamed as he walked away to look at the window at the quiet street outside.

Hermione walked over to him and pulled on his arm until he faced her with a sullen scowl. "I know," she said softly. "We'll get through this."

"Together," Draco said firmly, a crooked smile on his face.

Hermione nodded as her face lit up. "I think we should stay out of Britain for awhile," she said lightly. "Perhaps a vacation?"

"Perfect. But promise me one thing," he said forebodingly, though a smile still played on his lips. "TRY not to get me beat up by any crazy exes when we go to dinner."

Hermione just laughed.

FIN.


End file.
